


Journey Beyond the Dream

by greenmamba5



Series: Sweet Dreams, Sweetheart [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 3 parents are better than 1, Asexual Panromantic Newt, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Heals, Credence figures out what to do with his boner, Healthy Relationships, Multi, Newt finally has supportive partners that respect his boundaries, Newt is in it for the kisses and cuddles, Newt is not quite sex repulsed but is traumatized, Obscurus (Harry Potter), Past Abuse, Past physical abuse, everyone is happy and nothing hurts, past emotional abuse, past sexual abuse (Newt), spoiler alert the girl's not dead, the girl from Sudan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmamba5/pseuds/greenmamba5
Summary: The man in blue whirled on you when you appeared behind him, landing only a few feet from his suitcase. His wand was out and the first thought you had at the sight of it was to shout a disarming “Expelliarmus.” You didn’t put much force into the spell, not even enough to knock his wand from his hand, but it did pop his hand back long enough for you to yell, “We aren’t here to harm you!”He hesitated in bringing his wand hand back to position, and you noticed that the man was staring at Credence, a look of shock plastered across his freckled features.“You’re alive?” he gasped.





	1. Chapter 1

It was overcast. Gulls were crying and the thick salt of the sea wafted in the breeze. It was cool and damp, and Tina tucked her coat tightly around her frame to block out the air.

The exchange with Tina had been short. Clipped. He brushed her hair from her face and she waited breathlessly for a more intimate goodbye. Newt was terrible at both intimacy and goodbyes, so he gave her very little of either.

Newt strolled up the gangplank, unable to look back for fear that he’d lose his resolve to leave. The largest part of him had wanted to ask Tina to accompany him, but he knew that wasn’t fair. She had her own life and career to worry about and the investigation into the disappearance of the real Percival Graves was weighting heavily on her. Though, a logical corner of his mind reasoned that if she were really romantically interested in him, she would have insisted on coming along.

The ship was as nice as last-minute economy tickets would allow, certainly nice enough for Newt, who would be spending the majority of his time in his case. He shuffled his way through the throng of sea-faring Muggles, cross the deck, and into the cabin area. He swaggered down the long hallway, taking care to not jostle his case too much, and made his way to the cabin labeled with a copper number 306.

Once inside, he sat his case down and placed a ward over the door for good measure. He had, at the very least, been able to acquire a room that wouldn’t be shared with anyone, but meddling Muggles were never welcome guests.

He was all too surprised when guests came in spite of his wards.

————-

You scurried closer, your hand clasped tightly against Credence’s as you led him through the dock. You took shelter behind a stack of crates and checked the date when a No-Maj walked by with a spread newspaper. The date checked out, matched your dream, as you had expected. And, that meant–

You caught sight of the man in blue talking to the dark-haired witch. You turned to Credence, asking if he was ready. He nodded quietly and gripped your hand tighter. You double-checked that no No-Majes were watching and procured your wand. You focused closely of the man in blue’s case and Disapparated.

————–

The man in blue whirled on you when you appeared behind him, landing only a few feet from his suitcase. His wand was out and the first thought you had at the sight of it was to shout a disarming “Expelliarmus.” You didn’t put much force into the spell, not even enough to knock his wand from his hand, but it did pop his hand back long enough for you to yell, “We aren’t here to harm you!”

He hesitated in bringing his wand hand back to position, and you noticed that the man was staring at Credence, a look of shock plastered across his freckled features.

“You’re alive?” he gasped.

“I am,” Credence said, tucking himself against your shoulder.

“I hadn’t dared hope that you’d make it out. The amount of magic you lost, not to mention your physical body–oh, this is fantastic! How did you manage it?”

Credence looked down at you with a near-pout that begged you to explain everything. You cleared your throat. “He escaped the subway through a shred of his Obscurus.”

“Is that right?” Newt asked. He didn’t press further as to how you knew about the Obscurus–that could come later. “He was able to reform his body, I see.”

“He was,” you said. “His magic was depleted, but we’re working on that.”

Newt jolted, as though he had forgotten something, and stumbled towards you, hand extended. “Where are my manners? Newt Scamander, magizoologist. I was in the subway when… well, when it all happened.”

You gave your name and took his hand, shook it lightly, awkwardly, before he pulled it back and ruffled his mop of messy ginger hair.

Newt continued, “I thought I might’ve seen part of the Obscurus float out, but I couldn’t be sure–didn’t want to draw attention to it.“

“I followed for miles before he landed,” you said. "I doubt anyone else saw it.”

“You were far enough to escape the rain, I take it?” Newt asked.

“Rain?” you echoed. “It wasn’t raining.”

“Well, it was around the subway,” Newt said. He almost began explaining the whole of his grand plan to erase the Muggles’ memories, but decided against it. “Anyway, never mind I mentioned it. It isn’t important. On the other hand, his escape–you said no one saw?”

“No one followed us, anyway,” you said simply. “I’ve know Credence for a couple months now, but, luckily, no one knew about me. Or–well–I haven’t had anyone knocking on my door, so I assume no one’s made a connection between us.”

“Or they are confident that he didn’t survive. Fortunate, either way,“ Newt said, seeming very relieved. “Credence, I’m glad to see you’ve found someone capable, and you seem to be well. You’re taking steps toward replenishing your magic, then?”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander,” Credence said softly. He unconsciously shifted–enough so that if he budged any closer to you, you might very well stumble sideways. Newt glanced between Credence and you, smiling in a knowing way before he ducked his head awkwardly.

“Excellent, but please call me Newt,” he requested. He looked back up slightly, his view obscured by the sweep of ginger hair. He seemed to be looking more over your shoulder than directly at you. “Now then, what brings you here? And how did you know where to find me?”

“I have the Sight,” you said simply. “It’s somewhat limited, but it pointed us to you. When I told Credence about it, he said you tried to help him in the subway. We were wondering if the offer for help still stood?”

“Oh, yes, certainly!” he replied enthusiastically. Credence’s expression softened, as though he had been holding his breath. His features pinched again when Newt said, "You will have to stay hidden while on the boat, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine,” you said. “We’ll stay out of sight until we reach shore.”

Newt pointed lazily to his case. “You can stay in there, if you’d like. I can carry you out easily that way, too, when we arrive.”

Credence followed the gesturing hand and scrutinized the case. Was he actually suggesting that they get in a suitcase? Magic or no, it was too ridiculous. You seemed less than impressed, though.

“There are Extension Charms on the case, then?” you asked.

“Among other things,” he said sheepishly.

“Makes it bigger on the inside,” you explained over your shoulder to Credence. He gave a small ‘ah’ in understanding. Charms were your forte, after all, so that explained why you weren’t surprised. It was one of the few subjects that he hadn’t latched onto since you had taken him in–unlike Potions and Transfiguration, which he was reading and memorizing at an admittedly alarming rate.

“I do a fair bit of dabbling in Enchantments,” you said, smiling. “Would you mind too much if we…?” You nudged toward the case eagerly.

“Oh… oh, no, not at all,” Newt said, closer the space between himself and the case in a few long strides. He knelt beside it, flipping the latches. The lid popped up out of his hands, seemingly of its own accord until a small black blur leaped up out of the case.

Newt scrambled to grab the dark shape, shouting, “No, absolutely not! You’ve caused more than enough trouble this week.”

The shape struggled momentarily, giving out a indignant snort. It stilled enough that you could get a good look at it, could see the thick fur and bill. Newt tucked the creature up under his arm like an unruly child and stepped into the case.

“What in the world…?“ you gasped.

“Niffler. I’ll explain in a moment. Mind the ladder on the way in,” he said as he disappeared completely.

You nodded at Credence, squeezing his hand to calm his nerves, and followed.


	2. Chapter 2

When you descended into the case, Newt was nowhere to be seen. At the end of the ladder was a very tight and cluttered but quaintly cozy room. It was warmed by a smoldering stove and smelled of herbs and ink and books. “Organized chaos,” your father had called it, at least when referring to his own study. An Auror, he had always worked tirelessly and he’d always believed keeping a tidy work space was fairly unimportant to the grander scheme of things. This room, however, did seem to tip the messy scale more towards that of your younger brothers’ ransacked bedrooms.

Plants crept up the walls, and you recognized many of them as medicinal. They smelled familiar and pungent and you suddenly felt as though you were sitting in your mom’s nook. She’d pluck a bouquet of leaves to muddle and smear the paste onto scrapes when you were a child.

You were pulled from nostalgia by the sound of the ladder creaking as Credence climbed down beside you. Your hand searched toward him, smoothing upward against his side to steady him on the ladder as he ducked completely into the case. He stared wildly around the room, disbelief evident in his expression. The room was slightly bigger than the cabin you’d just come from. Credence glanced upward at the lid to the case then around the room again.

“This is a fairly rudimentary Expansion Charm, so you’ll see them a lot if you’re traveling with wizards,” you explained. His eyes darted to the side, a little embarrassed that he was in awe of the magic. You nudged him with your shoulder and he gave you a slight smile. Of course you weren’t making a judgement on his lack of magical knowledge. The statement had only been fact. He eased up next to you. “Pretty neat though, innit?”

He nodded, looking around again to soak in the sight of the room. From the opposite end of the room, a narrow door opened and Newt appeared in the threshold. He seemed to be holding back a grin, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Sorry, had to put the little beast to bed,” Newt said. He rolled his sleeves up, scoffing when he noticed buttons missing from his cuffs. “Oh, Merlin’s beard… A piece of advice, try to avoid wearing anything shiny or he’ll end up nicking it.”

“And he is…?” you asked, cocking a brow at Newt.

“A Niffler,” he said, as though it explained everything. “They’re marsupials with something of an Expansion Charm in their pouches. They like to hoard treasures.”

“Buttons are treasures, then?” you said with a laugh.

“They’ll do in a pinch, I suppose, but don’t underestimate him. He robbed a bank once.”

Credence took a sharp breath, as though he had realized something important. “The bank,” he said. “He was the reason you went into the bank.”

“Yes, well, he escaped from the case when–” He had nearly said something about Credence’s mother speaking to him at the rally, but instead he settled with, “–when I was distracted.” He hummed and busied himself at a workbench, pulling leaves and twigs and lopping them into a bowl. “I must say, Muggles don’t guard their valuables all that well. The Niffler broke into the heart of their vault without any issue.”

“No-Majes,” you corrected lightly, “don’t expect a magical platypus to be pilfering ‘round their safe deposit boxes.”

A grin broke across Newt’s face. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.” He finished gathering herbs and pushed away from the bench, bowl in hand. “One of my Occamy chicks picked up a bit of a cold while in New York. I’m off to try to pep her up a bit. You’re free to come along if you’d like, just stay close.”

He didn’t wait for your response, whisking back out the narrow door. Artificial sunlight flooded in from the door and you took a hesitant step towards it. You looked back to Credence. “May as well, right?”

“What’s an Occamy?” he asked.

You hummed in response. “Ah, something like a… snake mixed with a bird. Some people make jewelry out of their eggshells, but I’ve never actually seen one.” You held your hand out to him. “Come on, let’s go see it, yeah?”

He gave a slight nod and took your hand.

——————–

The sheer magnitude of the case absolutely floored you. You stepped out into a wide expanse of sunny meadow that split off in multiple directions. One way led to a forest, another to a savanna, yet another to a field of floating water orbs. Creatures bustled in every area, seemingly content with the habitats that had no doubt been developed to meet their individual needs.

For every ounce of shock and awe you were experiencing, Credence was feeling it tenfold and you had to tug on his arm so he would keep up with you. Newt was at the edge of the forest, kneeling beside a small basket.

You wove your way through skittering beetles, dodged Doxies as they buzzed by your head. Looking closer at the habitats, you could see glitches in the framework, bits of void peeking through where the enchantments were unraveling slightly. It was obvious that Newt’s work was not actually professional level, but you were still very impressed at how well he’d managed to piece together the world within the case together.

When you made it to Newt’s side, he was hand feeding the herbs to a tiny, blue serpentine creature. She pecked at him, her feathers ruffling slightly as she let out a little sneeze. Newt set the bowl in with the little creature, dusted his hands on his trousers, and stood.

“She escaped and ran amok in the city,” he said. “I’m not surprised she came down with something–it’s the first time she’s been outside, really.”

You regarded the creature fondly. Her bright eyes beamed up at you and she chirruped happily. Credence’s expression was alight with a sort of reverence and he gasped, “She’s beautiful.”

Newt gained a dopey but proud smile and he tilted his head down. Hiding under the unruly curtain of his hair seemed to be a common gesture. He said, “Thank you, I’m… very pleased that you think so. Though her plumage has been looking a bit dull since she’s not feeling her best and…” He stopped himself, realizing he was rambling a bit. “But, thank you. Really.”

You stooped in front of the Occamy’s basket and she stretched up toward you curiously. “What’s her name?”

“Oh, she doesn’t have one,” Newt said. “I’ve planned to release her and her clutch once they’re old enough. Best not to get too attached.” He’d already experienced the weight of that mistake with Frank. Name them and they become more than temporary. It made the release far too painful.

“There are others?” Credence asked.

Newt nodded and gestured up the hill into the forest toward a bigger basket. “Up there. I’ve separated her from the clutch so her cold won’t spread. Sad, really, she’s getting lonely.”

A look spread across his face, something like a flash of inspiration mixed with glee. “Do either of you know what Occamys can do?” He looked pointedly at you. “Or, well, the better question is do you know?”

“What they can do?” you asked. “I… suppose not.”

“They’re choranaptyxic,” Newt said, not defining the word. He reached down into the basket and scooped the little Occamy up. “Follow me, if you would.”

He carried the Occamy out of the forest habitat and into a separate area that had a canyon and desert aesthetic. He lifted his arm into the air, shaking it gently to coax the Occamy upward. She slithered around his wrist and her tiny wings fluttered and… grew. They expanded to a powerful span and flapped gracefully, carrying her up. As she ascended, her whole snake-like body swelled outward exponentially until she was nearly twenty feet long. She swirled in the air, chirping ecstatically as she played.

Newt’s grin stretched as he turned to you. You watched her excitedly and Credence looked as though he was seeing an actual angel with his own eyes. Newt wasn’t accustomed to that sort of reaction from people, save maybe Jacob who had been amazed by literally anything magical, and he had to admit that it felt refreshing.

“I thought a little exercise might do her good,” he said. He finally explained her ability. “They can grow to the size of their enclosures. Once she tires, we’ll move her back to the nest and she’ll become small again.”

The Occamy made a downward spiral and dipped close enough that you could almost touch her if you stretched your arm up. On the upward spiral, she thwacked her tail against Newt and he nearly toppled over with a winded “oof!”

“Watch out, now!” he laughed. “Mum’s not quite tough enough to play when you’re that big!”

“Mum?” you snickered.

“Well, the clutch imprinted on me,” he said plainly.

“But, you’re Mum?” you teased. “That’s precious.”

He wordlessly tucked his chin, hiding the blush that crept under his freckles. His smile did not fade.

——————–

Once the Occamy had properly exhausted herself and been returned to her basket, Newt gave you the grand tour of the case. Up into the forest, you were presented with an empty hanging basket. Newt explained that a Demiguise named Dougal–you took note that Newt was very much attached to this creature and so he had a name–lived in the habitat with the Occamys.

“He’s likely invisible now,” Newt said. “He stays that way most of the time, you’ll have to forgive him.”

“That’s fine,” you said. The hanging basket began to swing of its own accord and you assumed the Demiguise has been sitting there the whole time. Beside you, Credence startled and buckled forward, the weight of something pressing down on his back.

His hair ruffled, moved by invisible hands, and he stammered, “Is it… is it on me?”

Newt chuckled and reached toward the unseen creature. The Demiguise fazed into sight and jumped into Newt’s arms, staring back at you with wide, wise eyes. Credence stood slowly and you laughed under your breath as you helped him straighten his hair.

Newt said, “Dougal is a very nurturing sort. He must have sensed that you were uneasy.” He sat the Demiguise down and shooed him back to his basket. “Go on, now, don’t frighten our guests. You’ll have time to visit with them later.”

Credence adopted a sad pout, a little hurt that the ape-like creature had been scolded. “He’s not in trouble, is he? He wasn’t bothering me. There’s no need to…” He thought to say 'punish him’ but the words caught painfully in his throat. His Obscurus hummed uneasily and Newt most certainly noticed it.

“Oh, no, he isn’t in trouble,” Newt said quickly. “You’re more than welcome to stay here with him. I just thought you might want to see the other… oh, but maybe it’s all too much to take in. Please, don’t mind me, I get a little eager when others show an interest in my creatures.”

“They’re incredible, Newt,” you said, touching Credence’s arm lightly to calm him. He melted closer to you, his gaze still focused on Dougal. “And, we’ll be here for a while, so there’s time to meet everyone. You don’t have to rush through introductions.”

“That’s… yes, I suppose you’re right,” Newt said. “But, I would like you to see everyone so there are no surprises. I keep some beasts that are not as… amenable as Dougal. I’d like to introduce you so they won’t be worried about someone new coming into their home. Especially since…” His eyes wandered to Credence and the younger wizard snapped to attention, feeling Newt’s gaze on him.

“They can sense it, can’t they?” Credence asked meekly.

“Your Obscurus, yes,” Newt verified. “All the creatures here are somewhat hyper aware of that sort of magic because…” How would he explain the caged Obscurus without alarming Credence? He sighed. “Well, it may be best for you to just come with me. I’ll explain when we get there.”

———————

It felt like walking to an execution. Newt had grown quiet and he was grinding his teeth anxiously as you crossed the habitats and came to stand in front of a large curtain. A frigid breeze wafted from the other side.

“Remember in the subway,” Newt began hesitantly, “I said I had met another like you?”

“Yes,” Credence said suspiciously.

“It was a little girl,” Newt said. “She was only eight years old when she… when I couldn’t save her.”

“Couldn’t?” Credence asked.

“I had thought, everyone involved had thought, that we could remedy her affliction by removing the Obscurus from her,” Newt said. His expression pinched into a painful frown that told everything–they had failed. “So little is known about Obscurials, I thought the Obscurus was just a parasitic force, but I miscalculated. The girl was in poor condition when I found her. Her magic was already tearing her apart. But, even if she had been healthy, I don’t know that her Obscurus could have been safely removed.”

“She died because of the removal?” Credence whispered.

“Either because she was too weak to recover or directly because of the separation, but yes. She died as a result.” Newt motioned towards the curtain. “Her Obscurus, though, was contained, and it’s here in a captive stasis.”

“There’s an Obscurus in there?” you gasped. Credence took a step back and he shivered visibly. His Obscurus pulsed as he grew fearful. You placed a protective hand in front of him. “When you said you’d help Credence, you didn’t mean to try and remove his Obscurus, did you?”

“Heavens no,” Newt said. “I made a terrible mistake with the girl. She was dying and I took action without properly researching. Credence is alive and… amazingly well. There’s time to study his condition, work with it. And he seems to have a remarkable amount of control over it.” He spoke to Credence directly. “I never intended… Credence, please don’t be afraid. The last thing I want is to harm you.”

You dropped your hand back, searching for Credence’s. He took your hand, his grip painfully tight, and you could feel him trembling, could feel the Obscurus prickling under his skin. You stepped in front of him, breaking his eye contact with Newt and caught his attention. “Sweetheart, I won’t let anything happen to you. My dreams showed me that we would be safe here. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“I think I want to see it,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

“I want to see it… see her.” He glanced over your shoulder at Newt. “Can I see her?”

Newt’s lips pressed in a tight line as his nodded his approval. “It’s in a protective bubble, so I ask that you don’t touch it. An Obscurus can’t exist without a host, so the barrier is the only thing preserving it.”

“I won’t touch,” Credence said. “I just want to see.”

Newt sidestepped, drawing the curtain to the side, and ushered you in. His head hung low, ashamed.


	3. Chapter 3

The habitat that contained the Obscurus was literally freezing and, though the air was still, it bit at your exposed skin. In the center of the icy white alcove, a shimmering bubble hovered. Inside it was the bold, swirling mass of black ether.

It was, of course, far smaller than Credence’s Obscurus, and where his was laced with molten red accents this Obscurus was glistening sliver. As Credence neared the bubble, the Obscurus rippled slightly.

“Is this…” Credence hummed in thought and continued, “Is this what I look like when I change?”

“Not exactly,” Newt said. “You Obscurus is much more powerful than this one has ever been, even when the girl was alive. Yours is much larger and the shape is also a bit different.”

“It seems docile,” you said thoughtfully.

“In this form, it’s completely restrained,” Newt corrected. “Connected to the girl, it was uncontrollable. It lashed out at the slightest provocation.”

“Mine does that too,” Credence said.

“Yes, but you seem to have a better handle on your emotions,” Newt explained. “And, you’re able to return to normal without injury, yes?” Credence nodded. “When the girl changed, it would literally rip outwards from her. When she assimilated, she would be covered in cuts.”

“How did it happen to her?” Credence asked.

“Forced repression of magic,” Newt said. “When a wizard or witch isn’t allowed to use their magic, it builds up and festers inside. In her case, she came from a small tribal community that was deeply superstitious. Male shamans, what we would know as wizards, were revered as messengers of the gods. However, females with magical abilities were thought to bring bad fortune and were routinely sacrificed to… protect the tribe. She feared death and hid her magic as best she could, but her Obscurus began forming as a result. She wasn’t able to keep it in check.”

Newt stared into the pitch black of the Obscurus, his eyes looking very red and tired. “When I found her, they had placed her in a cage wrapped in protective wards that she couldn’t bypass. Light magic, it kept her held. The were starving her and bleeding her, purging her body of supposed impurities before her execution. She had been there for at least two weeks when I arrived.”

Credence said nothing, looked blankly at the small Obscurus. You found your voice long enough to ask, “How did you…retrieve her?”

“I stole her, of course,” Newt said simply. “It was too late, though. She was too far gone for even our best healers to bring her back. When we tried to mend her wounds, she would explode out into the Obscurus and she’d be even more hurt when she calmed down. We thought removing the Obscurus might… but no matter. We were wrong.”

The conversation continued, but Credence was too focused on the Obscurus to hear. All traces of sound dissolved into the quiet cold and for a moment he forgot anyone else was there. He was enraptured by the calm swirl of the Obscurus and he felt as though it was pulling him closer. He wanted to bring his hand up but kept it tucked firmly at his side. His fingers were becoming numb and the icy air burned in his lungs. He took a step back, resolving to leave the habitat, when a small voice called out to him.

-Friend? Safe… friend?-

He startled back to reality, stumbling backwards. You caught his arm so he wouldn’t tumble into the snow. “Credence, are you okay? Credence?”

“She spoke,” he gasped. “She spoke, didn’t you hear her?”

“What?” you asked. You had been talking to Newt when Credence spaced out in silence beside you. There had been an abbreviated pause and Credence had stepped back. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was only an echo,” Newt said. “It does that sometimes, if you focus hard enough on it. It will repeat back things that the girl said before her death or it will show you bits of her memories. There is nothing living inside that bubble. Don’t let it alarm you, Credence.”

“She said…” Credence hummed. “She asked if I was safe, if I was a friend.”

“But it only said the words ‘safe’ and 'friend,’ didn’t it?” Newt asked. He took Credence’s silence as an answer. “Those were the first words she said to me. Her village was on a trade route, so she picked up an English word here and there. 'Friend, safe, friend,’ she said, and when I said yes she came with me without a fight.”

“I think I want to leave,” Credence said, his muscles cramping as they shivered.

“That’s a good idea,” Newt said, turning to the entrance. “I have many more things to show you, if you’re up for it, happier things.”

“I’d like that,” Credence replied. You wrapped an arm around him and followed Newt out of the cold.

Credence kept his back to the Obscurus, even as it whispered, -Friend? Safe? Wait!-

————————-

The next habitat was balmy and dark but it did, in fact, lift your spirits considerably. You crossed into the shadow of a hovering landmass that sat under the calming glow of an artificial moon. When Newt entered, he pulled a bucket of feed from a storage crate and rattled the contents. Instantly, a herd of bizarre, long-necked creatures stampeded off the landmass and swarmed around you. Newt handed the feed bucket to you and asked you to throw some of the pellets into the air.

“Mooncalves,” he said. “They use those huge eyes of theirs to moon gaze. Very sweet creatures, incredibly docile. Oh, Credence, that one seems fond of you. Give him a scratch under the chin and he’ll love you for eternity.”

Credence tickled under the creature’s chin, as instructed, and his head lolled to the side, saucer-like eyes rolling happily. When Credence stopped, he yipped insistently and bounced in circles, nudging his large head under Credence’s hand.

You laughed as Credence was forced to pet the beast again and you threw a handful of pellets out, shocked when they hovered in the air. The Mooncalves hopped at the cloud of food, grabbing the pellets piece by piece. A devious streak ran through you and you chucked a cluster of pellets in Credence’s direction.

Suddenly, the swarm of prancing creatures redirected and crowded around Credence, bumping and nudging him. When they ate their pellets, they pressed against him gratefully, thinking that he had been the one to feed them. He struggled to pet each one and finally, thankfully, broke out into a laugh as he tried to keep up with them.

You glanced over at Newt, who was watching with a sad smile. He looked up briefly, his eyes connecting with yours, and you mouthed, 'thank you.’

————

Introductions were made in every corner of the case. Diricrawls popped out of existence before you, a glowing squid-like creature that Newt called a Marmite bubbled and cooed as you watched it suckle a bottle, and you met the last breeding pair of Graphorns and their foal. It was an enormous feat to wrap your head around it all.

When you rounded the habitats and came to a large jutting rock, a spiky jaguar-like creature leaped to the highest point on the structure and roared. It’s maned puffed, inflating to full size and you cast a protective charm over your mouth instinctively to block out the toxic breath the creature was known for.

“Newt, why do you have a Nundu?” you shouted. He was slowly approaching with Credence, who hung back at the edge of the habitat when he saw the fearful look on your face.

Newt said, “No need to worry. She’ll stay on her rock if you’ll just continue past her.”

“But, her breath–!”

Newt motioned for you to follow along and he led your past the grumbling cat and back into the forest enclosure. You dropped the charm on your mouth and walked close to Credence, keeping an eye on the Nundu. Newt fell in line behind you, ensuring the he was the last to leave the Nundu’s territory.

“I’m surprised you know about the species,” Newt said. “They’re so rarely seen on other continents that most people don’t bother to learn about them.”

“My mother is a healer,” you said. “During her apprenticeship, she worked in Africa. She had lots of stories.”

Credence stopped abruptly and his arm was tugged forward, no doubt by Dougal. Newt shrugged and waved him on and the Demiguise led Credence up the hill while you and Newt spoke.

“Newt, how can you keep it here? Misunderstood or no–”

“She trusts me,” Newt said. “She’s very slow to trust, but I’ve had her since she was quite young. There’s a sort of mutual respect there.”

“But how has she not poisoned you with her breath?” you asked.

“Ah, that,” Newt said, cringing. “She’s a special case, you see. A Nundu’s anatomy consists of a network of glands under their jaws. They collect toxins and can be expelled. Her glands… they were removed when she was a cub.”

“I… didn’t know that was even possible.”

“Most don’t,” Newt said, shrugging. “The nature of the creature makes them incredibly difficult to study, alive or dead. Aside from the wizard who performed the operation on her, I’ve never met another magizoologist who has even known about the exact mechanism of their toxins.”

“And this wizard didn’t spread this information because…?”

“Well, he didn’t survive long enough to publish his findings,” Newt said. “Got done in by a Lethifold one night when he got careless, poor bloke. Either way, I’m harboring the Nundu and the nature of her condition. It’s… really best if it’s kept that way. For all the horrible stories about them, they don’t actually attack humans very often.”

“Mom said hunting parties would go after them in the night and never return in the morning,” you said. “But, it was always foreigners that went out. The locals stayed as far from their territory and didn’t have many problems.”

“I trust you’ll keep this information between us, then?” Newt asked. “For her sake? She’s really quite a remarkable creature, and she’s never offered to harm anyone.”

“Of course, Newt,” you said. “It’s the least I could do. You offered Credence help, after all.”

“Ah.” At the mention of the younger wizard, Newt turned toward the hill, smiling when he saw Dougal leading Credence around his home, showing him the Occamy chicks. “He seems to have a way with the animals.”

“He’s very gentle,” you said. “I’m sure they sense that, even with his Obscurus. Whatever he may have done in New York… Newt, I think you can understand more than anyone that he never meant to hurt anybody.”

“He was being manipulated,” Newt agreed. “Were you aware of Grindlewald’s role in all of this?”

“I know now that he was masquerading as the Director of Magical Security. I never crossed paths with him directly, but he made contact with Credence shortly before I did. He told Credence that he was looking for a child with unimaginable power and he… offered to bring him into our world if he would help find the child.”

You trembled just thinking about it. If only you had inquired further, asked to meet with the famed “Mr. Graves,” maybe you could have prevented the whole thing. Then again, you may have been none the wiser and then your identity would be know as well. As it stood, Credence had distanced you from anything else he was involved in and it had secured him a safe place after his assumed death.

“Even people who knew Graves before were fooled,” Newt said. “Grindlewald is highly skilled in persuasion. I’m only glad that he didn’t discover that Credence was the Obscurial sooner. If he had taken him out of the city… Well, there’s no need in worrying about that now.”

“Right,” you agreed. You watched Credence as he fawned over the Occamys, as Dougal groomed his dark hair. You smiled and released the breathe you had been holding. “Newt, what time is it now? It’s a little hard to tell in here.”

“It’s getting late,” he said. “I’ll set up accommodations for you. I’m not the most skilled, but I should be able to conjure up a couple of rooms, beds–attach them to my shed, if you’d like.”

“I can help,” you said. You wandered up the hill to Credence, told him he could stay with Dougal while you whipped together a place to sleep if he liked. He nodded in understanding and you joined Newt again. “He’d like to stay here a bit longer, if that’s okay.”

“Certainly,” Newt said. “Dougal doesn’t get to make friends often, and the Occamys should get used to seeing a face other than mine.”

The trek back to the shed was short and Newt quickly set to work arranging materials to transfigure the rooms. He talked through his plan, pointing out the section where the first room would go and then the second–

“Oh, right,” you interrupted. “You only need to make one room. And, ah, probably just one bed, too. I doubt he’ll sleep apart from me.”

Newt raised a brow at you, a thin, awkward smile twisting on his face. “Oh. I see.”

“I-it’s not like that–!” you gasped. “It’s, well–it’s complicated. I lived in a small place and after the subway, he slept better if I was close, so–” All of which had nothing to do with you kissing him silly every night. It was complicated, yes, but it was exactly what it looked like–you were head over heels for Credence. You were just determined to give him time to make up his mind about you. You stamped forward, wand out and levitated a stack of boards Newt had been collecting. “I’ll help you put this together.”

“I appreciate it,” Newt said, saying nothing else of your proposed sleeping arrangements. He still had that knowing smirk and every time he looked up at your flustered face, he laughed quietly.

“Oh, stop your snickering,” you muttered, throwing up a wall.

When the frame was erected, you cast a 'Protego’ over the room and Newt quirked a brow at you in question. You explained, “He has nightmares sometimes and his Obscurus thrashes. This will keep it confined to the room. I don’t want any of your creatures to be startled.”

“That’s… incredibly thoughtful, thank you,” Newt murmured. “But, you’ll be trapped in with it–”

“Oh, his Obscurus won’t intentionally hurt me,” you said. “Not again, anyway.” To sate the curiosity that was visibly rising in Newt, you rolled the sleeve up your wand arm. The silvery web-work of scarring that Credence’s Obscurus had carved into your skin gleamed under the artificial light.

Newt studied the marks with baited breath, not wanting to ask how it had happened but very obviously wanting you to volunteer the information.

“After the subway,” you said. “I ran up on him too fast. He was frightened and… well, it cut my arm. It hasn’t harmed me again since then. It… was sorry.”

“It was sorry?” Newt echoed.

“Yes, the Obscurus,” you validated. “Credence was upset that he hurt me and his Obscurus… it was sorry too. Does that make sense?”

“How…” Newt chewed on the thought. “How do you know?”

Then, realizing Newt didn’t know how far Credence’s control over the Obscurus stretched, you clarified, “It’s very careful when it comes out around me now.”

“It comes out frequently, then?” Newt said, his voice hushed. The gears were turning in his head and you could tell he was taking mental notes.

“He’s suppressing it a lot today,” you said. “But the last few days, he’s allowed it to slip out with me.”

“There were several times today that I feared he would disseminate,” Newt admitted. “But, he’s become accustomed to that state, then?”

“Oh, no.” You assured, “He’s not been close to that today. Actually, he hasn’t fully changed since the subway.”

“Fully? He can transform partially?” Newt said in awe.

“Yes. It tends to slip out if he’s relaxed or if he’s sleeping.”

“But what does it do when it comes out, when he’s a rest, when you’re sleeping together?” Newt immediately flushed, realizing the question was probably out of line. But, he’d never heard of an Obscurus coming out in a non-destructive way. He was having to restrain himself from sitting down with a journal and asking you a full gambit of questions.

“Like I said, it’s very careful.” You feel your cheeks heating up but continued. “Credence is… very sensitive to touch. I think he was so used to any touch resulting in pain that… well, if you hold his hand or touch him gently at all, it helps. It helps so much. But, he’s afraid to reach out himself. His Obscurus doesn’t have the same reservations, though. If I’m standing anywhere near him, his Obscurus will just reach out and touch me. I think having the contact is calming for him.”

“That’s… fascinating,” Newt whispered. He was covering his mouth with his hand, his eyes darting side to side as he processed your words.

“And sleeping… it…” You gulped against the knot in your throat. He had asked, dammit. “It just… embraces.” Newt’s eyes jolted up, meeting yours in shock. “Just embraces! That’s… it’s very sweet.”

Newt barely managed an, “Oh.”

“Anything else?” you asked, very much wanting permission to move away from the topic.

“No, no,” Newt said. “That’s–what you’ve told me is extraordinary.”

“I’m sure you want to know more and I don’t mind telling you things as I learn them, just–”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure I’m becoming bothersome,” Newt said, turning from you. “Did you need help fabricating a bed or–?”

“No, I can handle it, thank you.”

“Right,” Newt said, retreating to his shed. “I’ll just pop on up and keep watch in the cabin. If you need anything, I’m just upstairs.”

You felt a little bad for Newt. He was so caught up with wanting to study the Obscurus, naturally he was, but you could tell he was embarrassed. You wondered how many people before had dismissed his enthusiasm, called him 'bothersome,’ shooed him away.

Before he disappeared into the shed, you called out, “Newt, thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing, really.” He unconsciously ruffled his hair. He wanted to flee out of the case.

“Just know you aren’t a bother,” you said with conviction. “It’s a little awkward because it’s personal, but it really isn’t a bother. Please, don’t hesitate to ask anything.”

Newt hesitated at the door. You certainly didn’t know what you were suggesting–he could pick your brain apart for days if it meant learning more about the Obscurus. He chalked your words up to courtesy more than genuine intent. Slowly, sadly, he withdrew, bidding you good night.

————–

Credence appeared in the shed as you were putting the last touches on the makeshift bed. Your head snapped up and you smiled when he entered your little room. It had only enough room for the bed and a small table to hold your wand.

Credence shuffled in, shrugging out of his jacket and waistcoat. He folded the garments neatly and placed them on the table by your wand. For the moment, he skipped over his suspenders–he’d be damned if he ever wore a belt again–and his shirt. He sat heavily on the bed and began working out of his shoes.

“You okay?” you asked softly. You, too, shucked off your outer layers and shoes. Around your neck, you wore a locket with and Extension Charm. You opened the pendant, and pulled out a small piece of luggage.

“I’m fine, just tired.” Credence asked, “Is that the same charm as the suitcase?”

“Yes, on a smaller scale,” you replied. You flipped open your own case, which only held a few outfits, pajamas, and some toiletries. You pulled out a set of pajamas for yourself to sleep in and handed Credence a pair of his own.

You turned your backs to one another as you changed. It wasn’t a necessary gesture, exactly. You’d seen Credence completely naked after the subway, when his body had reformed, but he was still incredibly shy about being exposed. You, on the other hand, had grown up with absolutely shameless siblings and had been involved in athletics while studying at Ilvermorny–you were accustomed to changing in front of others.

You heard blankets shuffling behind you as Credence climbed into bed. You finished doing up the buttons to your shirt and turned to him. He had taken the side of the bed that bumped against the wall, though you were fully expecting him to. When he slept he tended to like being caged in, a protective wall at his back and you in front of him.

He held an arm out lazily and you budged up next to him, using the outstretched arm as a pillow. His forearm curled upward, wrapping against your shoulders as his opposite arm circled over to embrace you properly. His lips hesitated over your forehead, so you pressed your whole self forward, your entire body melding against his. He tilted his head down as yours tipped up and your lips met in a comfortable kiss.

Between small kisses, he said, “I think I… like it here…”

“I’m glad,” you said, smooching the side of his mouth instead of straight-on. “I think Newt is a good ally to have. He’ll keep us hidden until it’s safe.”

Credence’s hands fiddled at the hem of your shirt. Knowing he wouldn’t make a move unless you did first, you smoothed your hands under his shirt and rubbed circles on his back. He mimicked the gesture, running his palms against your skin. You groaned quietly and kissed him again, probing at his lips. He granted you access and his tongue slid against yours, slowly, longingly.

His motions became sluggish, a sure sign that he was submitting to sleep. You broke the gentle kiss and shimmied up, cradling his head against your collarbone. He inhaled deeply, moaning in contentment, and curled around you.

As you stroked his hair, you whispered sweetly to him, “You did so well today, Credence. I’m so proud, you were fantastic…”

He sighed and let sleep take him.


	4. Chapter 4

You awoke to a clamoring from within Newt’s shed. Credence’s spot on the bed was empty and long-cold, and you were surprised both that he had left you and that he’d done so without waking you. You imagined that you were more tired than you realized, had to have been to not notice him leaving.

You rolled out of bed, noticing Credence’s pajamas folded neatly on the bedside table, your wand placed carefully on top of the pile. Since the initial backfire he’d caused with your wand, he treated it with an undue amount of reverence–and had quickly declined any offers to let him practice magic on it. Though you assured him the backfire would settle after he became familiar with the wand and that aiming actual spells through it would be more effective, he wasn’t ready to risk another explosion of magic.

From the other side of the closed door leading into Newt’s area, you heard the the older wizard saying, “Ah, that one there. No, no, a bit to the right of your hand. Yes, right, I need three of those leaves.”

You whisked up your wand, casting a quick change spell on yourself, effortlessly changing your pajamas into a casual outfit. You holstered your wand on your belt loop and entered Newt’s shed, smiling when you saw Credence gathering ingredients for something and handing them to Newt.

“Good morning,” you announced. Credence relinquished his items and leaned close to you as you neared him, arm reaching for his.

“You slept well, I hope?” Newt said.

“Yes,” you replied. “ Very well, thank you.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Credence said. “But I heard Newt outside with the creatures.”

“Almost everyone has been fed now,” Newt said. “Just need to take some medicine out to our little Occamy and tend to the Bowtruckles.”

“Oh!” Credence gasped. “Look at this.” He pulled the lapel of his jacket to the side and a small, twiggy creature peered out at you.

You recognized the type of beast it was. “A Bowtruckle.”

“His name is Pickett,” Credence said.

“The little fellow usually hides in my pocket,” Newt said, an unmistakable smile on his face. “He seems fond of Credence, though.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” you said, stroking the leaves on the tiny creature’s head. Pickett rustled with a trilled peep and dove back into Credence’s pocket.

“If you’re hungry,” Newt said suddenly, “I brought some pastries from the ship. I tried not to grab up a whole plate, lest I look suspicious, but there are plenty.”

You regarded Credence. “Did you eat?” He nodded and you were a little surprised but pleased that he’d eaten without you. He seemed relaxed with Newt and you were glad. “I’m good for now. Maybe something later. I’d like to come check on the Occamy with you, though.”

Newt finished gathering medicine for the chick and led you out into the habitat. “Credence says that you do a lot of work with enchanted objects.”

“That’s right,” you said. “Mostly jewelry, since those things are easily worn.”

“But you’re skilled with Charms?”

“I like to think so,” you laughed.

Newt rubbed the back of his neck, dipping his head as he was prone to do. “I imagine my suitcase is something of a travesty to you, then.”

You gawked. “Why would you say that?”

Credence appeared beside Newt, quietly asked for the medicine–he wanted to treat the Occamy. Newt passed the herbs over and Credence moved ahead of you. Newt hung back, watching fondly as Credence tended to the chick. He gave you and uneasy smile. “It’s easy to impress Muggles and people raised non-magically and those who don’t particularly excel in enchantments. But, lay this out in front of someone who knows a thing or three about it and… well, let’s say I’ve been laughed at more than once.”

“I’m not laughing, Newt,“ you said seriously, leaning down a bit to catch his gaze. "There are mistakes in the spellwork, but it’s obviously functional. In the end, that’s all that actually matters. A charm is really only as impressive as it’s ability to do what you intended it to do.”

You stared up at one particularly frayed enchantment, a clear divide between two habitats. A pitch darkness peeked out through the cracks in the spell. “The only thing I could really comment on would be the gaps between habitats.”

“I tried simulating differing climates,” Newt explained. “In doing so I involved a few too many spells and the framework came apart a bit.”

“I could fix it, if you’d like,” you offered. “It wouldn’t normally be an issue, but with the Occamys having the ability to change size at will, I’d be worried that one of them might slip into the cracks and get caught outside the area of the extension charm. Best case scenario they’d just stay there, worst case they’d escape to the outside… because, well, I also noticed that you have no defensive spells cast around the case.”

“I tried applying those, but it reacted badly with my other enchantments,” Newt said simply. “Hmm, but do you really think the Occamys could wriggle through and out? I hadn’t even considered that.”

“I’ll draw up some blueprints,” you said, smiling. “It’s the least I can do since you’re sheltering us.”

“Maybe once we arrive and get settled,” Newt said with an awkward grin. “Last time I tried tampering, the whole case exploded outward and down a city block.”

You laughed light-heartedly. “You canceled out your whole extension charm? Oh, dear!”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Newt said. Part of him was joking, but a wounded part of him felt terribly self-conscious under the scrutiny.

“No, I’m just imagining it,” you said, “them all running down the street in a free-for-all.”

“Oh, they were mostly just scared. The niffler, not so much, because the little beast always gets out, and the nundu found herself a flock of ducks in a park nearby so she was quite happy.” You laughed harder and Newt couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“So the key to a nundu’s heart is duck?”

“Well, she was rather fond of it anyway,” Newt said. “Fortunately, she was still a cub at the time, so no real harm came of her adventure.”

On the Occamy’s hill, Credence had finished feeding the sick chick, as well as her clutch, and he was on the descent back to you. Newt looked pleased as the younger wizard returned. You regained his attention by asking, “Why don’t you name her?”

He was taken aback by the question. “I suppose I always hoped I’d be able to rehabilitate her someday.”

“But if she doesn’t have a toxin gland, won’t she be at a disadvantage in the wild?”

“Perhaps,” he hummed. “And, well, it’s not that I haven’t thought of a name for her… I’ve just never committed to calling her by it.”

“What would her name be?”

“You’ll definitely laugh,” Newt warned, more for himself than you. You leaned in a bit, like he was about to tell you a secret. “Oh, if you insist… It’s–I was thinking something like Cecelia–” He took a precious few seconds to gauge your reaction and was met with a warm smile. His cheeks became unbearably heated.

You didn’t laugh and maybe, for his own sake, he should have been more wary that you wouldn’t.

————

The trip to London was to last for six days, pending any unforeseen changes in weather. Newt spent most of his time inside the case with you and Credence, both to keep you company and to stave off his own boredom–he assured you that you were missing absolutely nothing topside. Newt typically only surfaced to procure food and at night to sleep.

The magizoologist had been incredibly forthcoming the first day or so regarding his creatures, reciting pages-worth of findings at a time, spilling out all the details he’d so carefully obtained over the years. By day three, you were quite sure you knew at least the very basics about every magical creature currently known to wizardkind–and were well on your way to becoming masterful in the husbandry of the ones living in the case.

However, it was also around day three that Newt began to withdraw slightly. He spent more time at the opposite end of the case. You were unsure whether he was just trying to give you and Credence privacy or if he was becoming insecure about the limit of your tolerance for his rambling. Either way, it was unnecessary and you told him as much.

You quickly learned that talking in length about his creatures made Newt terribly happy–the operative word here being ‘terribly’ because he always seemed guilty that he’d stolen your attention after speaking for a particularly long time. However, that joy didn’t even compare to the elation he visibly felt when you or Credence actually joined the discussions–and Credence was startlingly quick to absorb even the tiniest details of any conversation.

More often than not it was Credence asking the questions that caused Newt to break into the brightest, toothiest grins.

“What is it exactly that causes the Demiguise to be able to turn invisible?” or “Were Extension Charms actually adapted from the natural magic of the Niffler?” or “What was a Thunderbird like?”

To which Newt would spend hours getting lost in the answers and for those he didn’t directly know, he would return the questions to Credence, inviting him to offer his own conclusions. It was on the third day that Credence secured Newt’s confidence that he wasn’t bothering the two of you.

“Why does Cecelia try to keep her head lower than mine? Is it because of my Obscurus?”

The question led to a wider discussion.

“The Nundu is traditionally thought of as a creature shrouded in dark magic, so it is possible she could be responding to the Obscurus.” Newt didn’t mention the use of the Nundu’s new name, but you could tell that he was immensely pleased to hear it in use. “But, there’s no evidence to suggest that they have any sort of magical abilities that could be influenced by dark magic.”

“Their defenses are all mechanical,” Credence recalled. “Teeth, claws, and spikes, glands that hold toxins, a throat pouch that they can display when aggravated.”

“Exactly!” Newt cheered. He actually brushed his hair back from his face and his eyes were focused fondly on Credence. “No, I assume it is the Obscurus, but more because of the power behind it than the type of magic. Head bowing is a sign of submission to a stronger cat–also exposing the neck or belly, so please do tell me if she rolls over for you.”

“Please,” you scolded lightly, “don’t get close enough to the Nundu to see if she’ll roll over.”

“She’s already eaten from my hand,” Credence argued.

“She what?” you and Newt shouted in unison. Yours was an exclamation of shock whereas his was pure vibrating joy.

“I think she likes her name,” Credence said. “She jumped down from her rock when I was talking to her–you said it’s okay, right Newt, as long as I don’t go up on her rock? And she made this strange coughing noise and took some meat from me. She was very gentle about it.”

“She–she chuffed at you?” Newt gasped. “Oh, this is–chuffing, it’s that coughing sound, it’s friendly–she hasn’t done that since she was a cub! Nundu cubs mature over the span of three years and they spend that time tagging close to their mothers–learning to hunt, learning social behaviors. Cub will chuff at their mothers as as sign of affection or if they want something.”

“Well, she was hungry,” Credence offered.

Part of you wanted to chastise him for getting so close to the creature–most especially when you and Newt weren’t there to protect him if something went wrong–but he looked so proud of himself that you couldn’t bear to say anything. Instead you asked, “You said she liked her name?”

“She seemed to,” Credence said. “At least, she jumped down after I started calling her.”

“Creatures are very sensitive to intonation and intent,” Newt said. “If you spoke to her fondly, she probably found comfort in it. Oh, this is just fantastic, don’t you see? You can earn their respect in the simplest ways.”

“You did get her as a cub, though,” you reminded. “It wouldn’t be so easy with a wild Nundu.”

“No,” Newt agreed, “but what if it could be? It’s the same way with all creatures. They aren’t as unreachable as everyone thinks–Nundu and Graphorns and Dragons, they’re massive and dangerous, but they can be so gentle and so few people understand that. It’s incredible–you, you are incredible, Credence.” Newt did not miss the sharp intake of breath Credence took at being praised. Doubling back, however, Newt warned, “Maybe next time, though, bring one of us along–just in case she’s not in a good mood. She is a little testy, you know.”

Credence nodded soundly. You were grateful that Newt had said it instead of you. He was able to soften the words enough that Credence didn’t even register it as a reprimand. From that day on, Newt stopped hiding his eyes from you.

—————–

On the fourth night, you dreamed hot and heady–of hands gliding over your stomach and chest–of lips pressed longingly to your neck–of hair clinging to your forehead in a sheen of sweat–of a crisp gasp and moan and then–pitch darkness.

You woke panting and aching. Credence was wrapped against your back, his Obscurus rippling gently against your skin in time with his even breathing. For the first time in a forever, you didn’t know if your dream was a prophecy or a regular, vivid dream. You recognized those wandering hands, though, the press of that body to yours, that moan, and that final swirl of uncontrolled blackness.

You hoped unabashedly that it hadn’t been–just–a dream.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is everyone ready for our trio to meet their tiny Obscurial daughter?

On the fifth day Credence began spending a considerable amount of time in the arctic habitat, sitting and staring and the smaller, disembodied Obscurus. Newt, while not thinking it was the best idea that Credence spend all his time there, didn’t see the harm in short visits, necessarily, so long as Credence agreed to not touch the protective barrier.

Credence would often stay until his fingers became numb, watching the black matter shiver and undulate within its container. Occasionally, when he would observe it long enough, focus in hard enough, the small voice would echo in his ears.

-Friend?-

Newt had assured him over and over that it was just residual memories playing back, that this magical form was caught in a loop of the past. That never stopped Credence from responding, however.

“Yes, friend.”

-Friend, safe?-

“It’s safe here. No one will hurt you again.”

-Friend, help.- It whispered a few words in another language that Credence didn’t know–Arabic, Newt had said once, the girl’s native language had been Arabic–then said, -Trap. Trap, help.-

Newt said the little girl had been locked in a magically warded cage when he found her, so Credence assumed she was trying to say ‘I’m trapped’ as best she could. That, too, was probably a faded memory from the child, but Credence hadn’t heard the Obscurus say it before, so he felt hopeful, like it was progressing slightly.

“You aren’t in that cage anymore. There’s a bubble, but it won’t hurt you.”

-Safe?-

“The bubble is safe. It’s keeping you safe.”

-Friend, where?-

Credence paused at that, unsure what he was being asked. The Obscurus quivered and burst, filling the bubble. It settled after a moment, swirling into a smaller ball again.

-Friend, where? Help.-

“I don’t–”

“Credence?”

He snapped to reality, whirling around to face you. He realized that his fingertips were starting to tingle and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. The warmth of the material felt scalding against his skin, but he smiled at you to hide the discomfort.

“Sweetheart, Newt’s gone to get some dinner,” you said. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” he said. “Sorry I stayed so long. It’s easy to get lost a little when I look at her.” He still insisted on calling the Obscurus 'her’ and you didn’t have the heart to correct him. “What do you think her name is?”

“Credence…”

“D'you think Newt knew it, even?”

“He may not have,” you said. “I imagine he would’ve told us.” You held your hand out palms up, and Credence produced his chill-bitten fingers. You took his hands, bringing them to your lips and breathing heatedly over his knuckles. “C'mon, then, let’s go meet Newt.”

———

At dinner, Newt refused to repeat the girl’s name. He knew it, but with the owner of the name no longer living, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to keep the last fragment of her for himself, wanted to be the caretaker of that last shred of her identity. And, maybe, even more so, he knew hearing the name spoken would hurt terribly.

————

Credence returned after dinner, wanting to pull more words from the Obscurus to see if he could make sense of it’s previous question. He came prepared to sit for a long while, covered by several layers of clothing, a scarf, and some gloves. When he had gone fully into his Obscurus form, it had been incredibly difficult to grasp words, next to impossible to speak as a cloud of magic. He imagined that the little Obscurus had the same problem. Add in the fact that English would be her second language and it made for a jumbled attempt at communication.

He waited, concentrating hard on the shimmering dark magic for what must’ve been hours. Despite the added clothing, his skin was tingling angrily, and he reluctantly resigned himself to leaving. He stood slowly, his joints aching with cold.

-Bubble?-

Credence blinked up, clenching his teeth together to keep them from chattering. "What did you say?“

The Obscurus was humming quietly and Credence imagined that he was simply hearing things. His legs trembled. He needed to leave the habitat, needed to seek warmth. It was nighttime in the case, so he knew you’d be in bed already. His chest swelled as he thought of crawling in behind you, tangling his limbs in yours. How you’d roll and engulf him in lazy heat that would set his skin on fire.

He trudged away from the Obscurus, halting suddenly when it hissed, -Friend!-

"Safe,” Credence returned out of habit. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

-Friend, bubble!-

Credence froze, whirling back to the swirling mass. He hadn’t imagined the word. “Yes, bubble. That’s what you’re inside of, to keep you safe.”

-Bubble–safe. Trap–hurt.-

“The bubble hurts?”

-Bubble–safe. Trap–hurt.-

“Trap? Oh, the cage. Before, when you were in the cage, it hurt.” Credence edged closer. “The bubble doesn’t hurt.”

-Bubble–safe. Trap–Friend, where?-

There was that perplexing question again. “I don’t know what you want. I’m sorry.”

-Friend, safe. Trap–hurt. Friend–help.- It paused, as if searching for a better word. -Mum. Mum–help.-

“What?” Credence held his hand out, nearly breaking his promise to not touch the barrier when the Obscurus scrambled angrily.

-No!-

He withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry, it’s safe. Tell me what you need. I’ll help you.”

-Friend–Mum.-

“Mum?” Credence echoed.

-Mum, where?-

“Where? Where is… Mum?” Credence repeated, arranging the words in a way that sounded correct. “I’m sorry… I don’t know where your mother is, she–” His words dropped off as he tried to make sense of things. She’d made a distinction between the trap that hurt her and the bubble, but why?

-Bubble–help. Bubble–out!-

Credence could feel the other Obscurus reaching with all its might, trying to speak to him in an easier way. She sensed the same magic inside of him.

Unless… it was a signal of time. She was referring to the time she was trapped and the friend that helped her. Friend, where? Mum, where? Mum.

“Oh,” Credence gasped. “Oh, oh, I understand. I understand! I’ll be back!”

———

“Newt,” Credence urged. “Newt, wake up.” He had, for the first time since boarding, climbed up the ladder and into the cabin to find Newt sleeping in the small bed.

“Wha… did we arrive?” Newt mumbled as he roused.

“No, we’re still at sea, but listen–Newt, listen!” Credence insisted. “What did the girl call you?”

“The girl… Oh, Credence, not this again.”

“What did she call you?”

“Nothing,” Newt said sadly. “She was barely with me for a week–friend, I suppose. She called me friend.”

“Okay… okay, did you ever tell her to call you something?”

“Credence, please, I know it’s distressing for you, to think that the child may still be in there,” Newt said, his head bowed. “But, it’s upsetting to me, too. There’s no trace of her still alive.”

“Newt,” Credence insisted.

“She only ever called me 'friend’,” Newt said, sounding defeated. He wiped sleep from his eyes. “But, I suppose… I talked to her the way I talk to my creatures. The 'Mum’s here’ bit. So, maybe it’s echoing that back, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Newt, she’s asking for you!”

“Credence, it isn’t asking for me,” Newt whispered. “It can’t. The girl is dead.” The words were like a knife twisting into his chest. Dead, his failure, his worst failure.

“No, she’s not!” Credence insisted. “She told me she wants to come out–well, not in as many words, but I think I understood enough.”

“Credence–”

“Newt, she said the bubble doesn’t hurt.”

Newt swallowed the objection he had prepared. “What?”

“The bubble,” Credence repeated. “She’s says the bubble is safe, that it doesn’t hurt, but that she wants out.”

“No,” Newt murmured. “No, that’s not possible.”

Credence could see him breaking, but pushed anyway. “Newt, she wants you–”

“It’s. Not. Possible.” The words were sharp and Credence fought against the flinch that they evoked. Loud and commanding–he’d never heard Newt like that. “She’s…” Newt’s voice softened, his words sounding throaty now as he held down his hurt. “She’s gone. I tore the Obscurus out of her and she was gone. I saw her die, Credence. I held her in my arms as her pupils blew and her pulse faded and she stopped breathing.”

“I was blown to pieces in the subway,” Credence rebutted. “I was torn limb-from-limb and burned to nothing. I died, too, Newt. My body died, just like hers did. But you can’t separate the Obscurus from us because we–are–the Obscurus. She’s in there, stuck in that bubble, and she doesn’t know how to get out.”

“If I destroy the barrier,” Newt said. “Every trace of the poor girl will be gone. Even if some part of her is in there, it will dissolve without something holding it together.”

“If you really believe that,” Credence snapped, “then why would you keep her trapped in there? If the barrier is all that’s keeping her alive… Newt, what kind of life is that?”

Newt stared back at Credence as though he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

———

Newt and Credence descended the ladder, and you were at the bottom waiting. Credence touched down first and gave you a pained look.

“What’s going on?” you asked. “Credence, is everything okay? You hadn’t come to bed yet so I was worried.”

Newt stepped down and continued right past you. “I’m going to deal with the other Obscurus.”

“You–you what?” You sped up to meet Newt, Credence close behind. “Newt, what do you mean?”

“Keeping it here has become problematic,” he said.

“What happened?” Newt ignored you and you turned to Credence. “What’s going on?”

“It’s going to be fine,” Credence said. “He’s going to go check something.”

————

The Obscurus whirled frantically when Newt entered the habitat. He pulled his coat around his shoulders tightly as he came right up to the barrier. He waited for you and Credence to duck under the curtain between the habitats before he raised his hand, holding it just over the glistening edge of the bubble.

“Newt,” Credence said. “It’s going to be okay. Just trust me.”

Trust had gained him a lot of heartache in the past, and he wasn’t ready to see the true end of the little Obscurus–Credence was wrong, he just had to be, and that meant that Newt would be extinguishing the last reminder of the girl from Sudan. But, if there was even a trace of her left in there, trapped…

“I’m sorry,” Newt whispered. His hand brushed the barrier lightly and it burst at the soft contact. The Obscurus inside let out a wail and it exploded into a plume of ash.

The particles hovered like black snowflakes, glistening against the stark white of the habitat. Bits of the Obscurus freckled the snowy ground and Newt’s coat. Newt was fighting back tears, wiping his sleeve across his brow. Deep frown-lines carved his face as his lips trembled. “There, you see… it… it’s gone.”

“Newt–” you began.

“No, Credence was right. If there was some sentient part of her left, it deserved to be set free.” He didn’t sound at all convinced. “I… I need some air.”

Credence said nothing, staring straight out into the void of the habitat. Newt shuffled past in the snow, but Credence caught him by the arm. You looked forward, following Credence’s gaze, and gasped.

The specks of black were swirling, drawn together as though pulled by a magnet. Newt turned, and his words hung in his throat. The particles scrambled together, shifting until they formed something resembling wisps of smoke. The smoke whipped, spinning like a cyclone into a tangible form. Slowly, a small figure materialized, suspended in the air.

A girl–a tiny, fragile girl was forming before you. Her skin was obviously dark but ashen from her depletion. Her hair was sheared fairly short, and a dense cap of tight curls covered her head. She was naked, of course, and her body was littered with jagged scars. Once her body had completely formed, she gasped out a breath, the first she’d taken in months.

Newt dove forward as she dropped from the air, catching her before she hit the snowy ground. He folded her in his arms, every bone in her emaciated body jutting out. Newt cradled her, shrugged out of his coat and did his best to wrap her in it to ward off the shivering that was violently wracking her body.

“Oh, oh–there there, it’s okay now,” Newt soothed. The girl’s frail, thin arm stretched up, her hand splaying out on Newt’s face.

“M-m… Mum,” she stammered, her lips cool and color-drained and quivering.

A sob shuddered through him and he curled in on the girl, crushing her to his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think you were–oh, sweet girl, I didn’t know you were in there.”

Stray tendrils of her Obscurus coiled at the edge of her skin and her silhouette threatened to bleed out into smoke again.

Newt hugged her tightly. “No, no, don’t burst apart again. Calm down. Mum’s here. It’s okay, Zamira.”

You heard the name, felt a jolt of recognition, but said nothing, nor did Credence. Newt stood with her, barely hindered by the meager weight in his arms. He trudged back out through the snow, motioning for you and Credence to follow him out into the warmer habitats.

“Credence,” Newt said as you held the curtain open for him, “I don’t know what to say–”

“It’s fine,” Credence said hastily.

“I don’t… oh, don’t try to move, it’s okay.” The girl’s Obscurus was creeping out like vines, wrapping tightly around Newt’s arms, and leaving little slices in his sleeves. “I’m afraid she’s going to fall apart.”

“Take her to our room,” you said. “The walls will keep her contained until she can get settled.”

“She won’t completely change, anyway,” Credence said. “She’s too weak for it, like I was.”

Once inside the small room, Newt called out a list of herbs for you to prepare, but you said, “I’ve got one better.” You rummaged into your expanded locket and procured a small case filled with the vials your mother had given you for Credence. “They’re all pre-made and labeled.”

“Brilliant,” Newt sighed. He found a standard pep-up potion and uncorked it. “Zamira, here now, try this.” He held it to the girl’s pale lips and she took it gingerly, drinking it down with little hesitance.

Color burst in her cheeks and she spoke, her voice quiet, like a small bird, “Mum, safe–hurt… no… doesn’t…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Newt soothed, petting the short curls on her head.

“Are there potions to help clear the mind?” Credence asked. “Being in that form for very long scrambles up everything in your brain.”

“Oh?” Newt hummed. “Is that why she sounds like this? She was… well, for a few days back then, she spoke more clearly than this.” He regarded you with a look. “Do you know how to make a Clarity Draught?”

“I do,” you said. “I’ll get it started. It won’t be ready for a few hours, but she’ll probably sleep for a while, don’t you think?”

Newt sat on your bed, looking unsure. “Sorry, I’m invading your space–”

“Nonsense,” you said. “It’s your case, Newt.”

“Mum,” the girl–Zamira, her name was Zamira–insisted. Newt stared down at her, noticed that she was looking at Credence. “Mum, friend.”

“That’s Credence,” Newt said. “He’s like you.”

“Like…” She seemed to struggle words.

“Like you,” Newt repeated. “The same as you.”

“C… Cr…” She pursed her lips on the hard sound.

“Credence,” Newt said again. “It’s okay, we’ll work on it later. Do you want to say hello to him?”

She held her hand out, but her muscles were wasted and she couldn’t keep the arm raised. Credence moved close slowly, as though her were approaching a dangerous creature–of course, he supposed he was. He had seen the damage he caused to you after the subway, knew what an Obscurus was capable of. He sat at the end of the bed and held his hand out to her.

Zamira lifted her hand with maximum effort and placed it in his. Her Obscurus lifted from her wrist, a sharp tendril poised like a snake. Credence willed a thin stripe of his own Obscurus to swirl out. His was accented red and it tapped her silver-lined tendril.

At the contact, she gasped, her eyes flashing white, but her mouth stretched into an impossibly huge grin. “Same–same–same.”


	6. Chapter 6

Zamira fell into an exhausted rest, cradled against Newt’s chest. He carefully placed the girl in your bed, covering her over with blankets and tucking them securely. He joined you in the main area of his shed as you worked up a Clarity Draught. Credence had taken up post close to your room, and Newt pulled an armchair up beside the younger wizard and took a seat, looking incredibly tired—unsurprising, given that Credence had woken him.

“You can get some rest, Newt,” you offered. “We’ll come get you when she wakes up.”

“I’m fine,” he argued. “I just… Merlin’s beard, what am I going to do now?” He wallowed his forehead into his hands, sighing heavily.

“Aren’t you glad that she survived?” you wondered.

“Of course, I am,” Newt said. “It’s fantastic—which, thank you again, Credence. I never would have thought…” Credence was shaking his head at Newt, and the magizoologist let his words fall short. No thanks necessary, it meant. “I just remember how unstable she was in Sudan. Even weakened, she lashed out at anyone who tried to come near, who tried to heal her. I made a shaky connection with her then, which she thankfully seems to remember, but she struck out at me plenty of times, too.”

“She just needs to learn her own strength,” you assured. 

“Yes, well, I’m hoping she’ll sleep until we reach shore,” Newt said grimly. “If she strikes out inside the case, she may crack it.”

“I can fortify the wards around the room,” you said. “Just plan to keep her in there until we can get a better feel of her power.” You turned to Credence. “You can’t feel the spell around the room when we’re in there, right?”

“I didn’t know there was a spell in place,” Credence admitted.

“That’s good,” Newt sighed. “I’d hate for her to think we’ve trapped her again.” Newt studied Credence silently for a moment, then dared to ask, “Have you learned anything useful about your condition? Anything that could help her?”

“Learned?” he repeated. “No, not… not that I know of. It feels more comfortable now, but I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe… maybe just because I don’t try to hold it in anymore. It doesn’t fight me.”

“She’s just so unsteady,” Newt said. “You’ve had more time with the condition, time to adapt. And, even though your Obscurus is much, much larger, it hasn’t taken an obvious toll on your body. Hers will literally tear her apart if it manifests.”

“Credence has an unbelievable amount of potential,” you added. Credence made a noise in protest and you shushed him. “Don’t even entertain the idea of belittling yourself. I’ve seen what you can do.”

“Oh?” Newt hummed, curious. 

“If a wand backfires in his hand, it has a complete three-sixty-degree radius around him and it would reach clear across the room from where he’s sitting.”

“Really?” Newt gasped. “You’ve tried your hand with a wand, then?”

“Only the once,” Credence murmured. 

“He blew up every breakable in my apartment,” you said proudly. “I can’t even imagine what he’d be capable of with a proper wand.”

“That’s interesting,” Newt mused. “I had suspected that Zamira was not a very strong witch, actually. Her Obscurus is unapproachable, of course, but it’s very small when it manifests. Credence’s, in comparison, completely dwarfs it. If it’s a parasitic force like all the theories seem to say, it should be limited to the magical capabilities of its host. Which… that seems to be true in this case. However, if the Obscurus is depleting her magical reservoir before she can recover it, we may have a dilemma.”

“Keeping her Obscurus contained long enough for her to replenish,” you assumed.

“Right,” Newt agreed. “We’ll need to keep her calm enough to recover, start from square one, and hope that her Obscurus doesn’t drain her faster then she can accommodate. And if her Obscurus manifests even once, it will wipe out anything she’s managed to store up.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to catch up?” Credence asked. “If she’s already at a deficit, she’ll have to recover her strength twice as fast to keep up with her Obscurus, right?”

“We can make potions to help,” Newt said. “But yes, she’ll have quite the struggle on her hands. I’m hoping that you’ll be able to help her, Credence.”

“How?”

“If she can at least learn how to manifest her Obscurus without it injuring her, it would be a huge improvement.”

“I don’t… control how mine comes out. It just does.”

“And maybe all she needs is for someone to show her how to ease into it,” Newt said simply. “I won’t ask you to go out of your way if you aren’t up for it, but you do have a unique perspective in this that no one else has. She’s going to come to rely heavily on you to understand how to properly interact with her magic.”

Credence felt the weight of responsibility press into him, nearly suffocating. He’d watched over his sisters at the church, but he’d never been directly responsible for shaping their growth. Presented now with a child who, like he, had suffered severe mistreatment, he balked and felt the strongest urge to back down. What if he made Zamira worse? What if Newt resented him for it?

He pushed the thoughts aside, trying to pull himself together.

\------

For the remainder of the night, the three of you slept in chairs outside the warded room, taking turns stirring the Clarity Draught accordingly. Newt was on duty when the potion was completed and he bottled the liquid before retiring to his own chair to rest. 

As you slept, you dreamed of Credence, standing straight and confident. His hair was only slightly longer than it presently was, but the edges were rougher, beginning to look shaggy. He had a wand in hand. The dark wood was familiar to you, but you couldn’t properly see the handle, couldn’t gather any more details of it. He waved it expertly, as though it were a true extension of his arm, and a spray of water burst forth and showered the garden outside Newt’s shed. 

You could hear Newt laughing behind you, teasing, “Wordless, even—now you’re just showing off.”

You woke with a blink, feeling immensely proud. Across from you, Newt was awake, watching you curiously. You stretched your head to the side, trying to work out the crick that had formed at the junction of your jaw. “What’s it, Newt? Were my eyes glowing?”

“Yes, actually, ” he replied.

The feeling of pride multiplied. Credence would have a wand and he’d be beautiful with it in no time at all. “I was having a vision,” you said. “D’you think we’ll be able to get Credence a wand when we reach shore?”

“I don’t see why not,” Newt said. “He won’t be needing a wand permit outside of the States, so acquiring one under the table shouldn’t be too difficult. I also happen to have a few favors saved up with old Ollivander.”

“He’s the foremost craftsman in Britain, yes?” you asked. 

“That he is,” Newt answered. “I’ve supplied him with core materials for years, so he’ll probably be happy to help.”

“I kind of hate that Credence won’t be able to have an American-made wand,” you grumbled, glancing over at his sleeping form. 

“I’m more disappointed that he didn’t have the chance to attend a proper wizarding school,” Newt argued. “He would have been fantastic, I think.”

“He still will be,” you insisted. “But, yeah, he would have been amazing. And I’m thinking…” You regarded Credence again, studying him. “…well, I’m partial to Wampus, seeing as how I was one, but he’d probably be better suited to Horned Serpent.”

Newt laughed. “Maybe so, but keep him ‘round here and I’ll make a fine Hufflepuff out of him.”

“You think so?” you snorted. 

“He’s incredibly loyal, yes?” Newt said. “It would land him in Hufflepuff or Slytherin, but he doesn’t strike me as the cunning type.”

“Oh, right, Hogwarts has that ridiculous hat that makes the choice for you.”

“Well, if he had the choice, he’d sort himself into your house, I’m sure.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Wampus is a rowdy house. He’d be completely out of his element. So, maybe Hufflepuff wouldn’t be a bad choice.”

“Hufflepuffs are more mischievous than people give us credit for,” Newt snickered. “It’s easy to get away with all sorts of shenanigans when everyone’s convinced you’re completely incapable of acting out.”

You smirked at him and raised your brows suggestively. “And what exactly are you capable of, Mr. Scamander?” 

“Oh, this and that,” he hummed, dipping his chin toward his chest. A blush flooded his freckled cheeks. Suddenly he leaped up. “Well, I’d best get topside. We should be landing soon.” He gave you a quick smile. “You won’t feel the case move if I’m carrying it, so if you need anything just knock on the hatch, I guess. Wouldn’t want you to peek out and be seen by anyone.”

“Oh, here.” You held your hand out to him. “I can put an enchantment on. A physical link.”

He didn’t question, simply gave you his hand. You cast a misty spell over your clasped palms and a shimmering glow settled onto your hands. You released your grip and chanted, “Excitant esthesia.” Your palm glimmered and you tapped your finger against the glow. Opposite you, Newt stared down at his hand, shocked that he could feel the tapping as though it were directly happening to him. 

“Finis,” you said, calling off the spell. “You can do the same. Excitant to initiate a connection. Esthesia for physical feedback and I’ll feel it on my hand. I’ll tap if we need anything.”

“Clever,” Newt said, grinning. “I’ll be back once we’ve arrived.”

You gave him a slight salute. “We’ll be here. I’ll have Credence help me feed everyone, yeah?”

“Excellent,” Newt praised as he scaled the ladder to the surface. “See you soon.”

\---------------

Several hours passed before Newt returned. During that time, all of Newt’s creatures were given their breakfast, the furrier creatures were bathed and brushed, and you reinforced the wards on the room where Zamira slept. After that, you had just enough time to read through a chapter from Potions: A Practical Field Guide with Credence before Newt dropped back into the case.

“We’ve made it,” Newt said. “I’ve already apparated us to my cottage, too, so it’s clear to leave the case if you’d like. I trust there were no issues?”

“None,” you said. “Zamira still hasn’t come to, but it took Credence a couple of days after his incident. I don’t expect she’ll be up any quicker.” You had taken the time to clothe the sleeping girl in a makeshift dress and it had barely budged her. You doubted anything short of an explosive detonating in the room would stir her.

“Right,” Newt said. “I can stay down here with her, then, if you’d like to pop up and get yourselves settled. My home is quite small, but you’re welcome to convert the study into a bedroom for now.”

“Thank you.” You took Credence’s hand and led him to the exit. 

\------

It was closer to three days before Zamira roused and called out frantically for Newt. Despite having a place to stay outside the case, your ragtag group spent most of your days in the case, worried that Zamira would wake alone. 

When the fearful cry of “Mum!” rang from the small room, Newt was quick to enter, ducking when a startled black tendril sliced past his head. 

“Zamira, it’s okay,” he said quietly. 

The girl was huddled on the bed, her magic spilling from her and probing at the walls. She looked worried as her Obscurus tried to poke through the cracks and was shunted back by the wards. “Trap,” she hissed. “Trap—trap—trap!”

“No, it’s okay,” Newt said. He held his hands up in peace and took a step into the room. “It was only to keep you safe while you slept. Come now, let’s go somewhere more open.” He edged closer.

“No!” the girl wailed. The bed rattled against the floor and Newt was yanked away from the door just as the silver lined Obscurus exploded outward, slamming against the wall and ricocheting inside the room. 

Newt felt the grip on his arm, looked over and saw Credence staring ahead in wonder. “Thank you, Credence.”

“I could feel her about to change,” he said simply. 

“We need to get her out of the room. She thinks we’ve trapped her.” Newt called around the doorframe, “Zamira, calm down. We’ll go somewhere safe, but you have to calm down.”

She rampaged, splintering the walls and the scarce furnishings in the room. With a defiant scream, she lashed through the choke point of the door, tumbling out toward Newt. Credence barely had time to become incorporeal and he swept in front of Newt, meeting the smaller Obscurus head-on. The wisps of their magic threaded together, silver-black woven through the more controlled red-black, and Credence quickly lassoed the larger loops of his Obscurus around Zamira’s, bringing her to a literal screeching halt. 

She jerked against the hold but her weakened state took its toll. She stilled as quickly as she had lashed out and, to Newt’s great relief, her Obscurus gathered itself into the small body once more. Satisfied that her tantrum was over, Credence also returned to himself, holding the girl tightly to his chest as he rematerialized. 

Newt watched them curiously. Zamira had many slices etched into her skin, oozing blood, but Credence only had labored breathing, despite his equally complete shift into the Obscurus. Zamira’s eyes were washed out white and they slowly filled with color again, streaming tears as she returned to her senses. 

She reached out from Credence’s hold, hand extended to Newt, and she whined, “Mum… Mum, sorry. Help.”

Newt nodded at Credence and he guided the girl to Newt, passing her into his open arms. Newt lifted her, cradling her as she clung to his neck. “There, now, that’s better.” He rocked her gently, and met Credence’s eyes. “Thank you, Credence. That was brilliant. You’re all right, I hope?”

“Fine,” he replied. The smaller Obscurus had been little more than a minor inconvenience when it bashed against him, and Credence suddenly had a stark idea of how powerful he truly was—even weakened, Zamira’s magic would have ripped through Newt had it reached him first.

“I think some air would do us all some good, wouldn’t you agree?” Newt asked. Credence nodded in affirmation and followed as Newt headed for the ladder.

Newt’s cottage was very isolated, many miles from the nearest neighbor, and it would be safe for Zamira to be outside in such a remote place. At the very least, it was safer than in the case where she ran the risk of injuring one of Newt’s creatures.

Credence climbed under Newt, steadying him as he rose with Zamira in his arms. You were waiting outside the case and were shocked to see the little girl being brought into the room.

“She’s awake?” you asked. “Is everything okay?”

“A little hitch,” Newt laughed. “But, Credence handled it beautifully. It appears that he can subdue her by overpowering her—which, by the way, Credence, I didn’t know you could shift forms at will. That was really amazing.”

Credence hid his face, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and proud. “It’s not that I can change at will, I just… I didn’t want her to hurt you so I just reacted.”

“Either way,” Newt said absentmindedly. “If we could get that Clarity vial, it may help.”

You jumped to grab the potion and handed it over, feeling a bit unnerved by how closely Zamira was watching you--sweet Merlin, was that what it felt like to have an Obscurial glare at you? You'd become so used to the loving way that Credence looked at you and the pressure exerted from the girl was a rude awakening. Newt uncorked the vial and offered it to her. “Here, try this.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip, then looked at Credence expectantly. She gasped, “Friend? Cr… Friend, safe?”

Credence’s brows knitted in confusion. “What?”

“I think…” Newt began. “She wants you to try it first, maybe?”

Credence stepped forward, taking the vial and examining it. Zamira watched him closely, her eyes wide with fear. Credence tipped the potion to his lips, taking the smallest taste. It was like tea—herbal, crisp—and it hit his senses like a splash of ice water. The room seemed to come into better focus and he felt a sense of being incredibly well-rested. 

He offered the vial back to Zamira and said, “It’s safe.”

She still looked at the potion as though it were suspicious material, but she turned the bottle up to her mouth, taking it in one gulp. After a moment, her eyes widened in realization and her mouth fell agape. Newt asked, “How do you feel, Zamira?”

She gathered her thoughts a moment, working through the tangles in her mind. “Feel… how—feel. Hurt—no. Does… does not hurt.”

“Good,” Newt said softly. “Would you like to go outside?”

“Out… side?” Her face pinched in concentration, but she was clearly more focused after taking the potion. “Outside, yes. Want outside.”

\------

The cottage was surrounded by fields of lush green and the sight of the open meadow hit Zamira with blinding force. She blinked slowly, as though trying to comprehend the vast land before her. Gently, Newt set her down to the ground and she scrubbed her toes in the plush moss. It cooled her skin, cushioning it with a softness that her arid birthplace had never offered. She fell backwards, moisture soaking into her dress. 

Her eyes welled and squeezed shut and suddenly she was flailing her arms and legs. She cried out in something resembling relief and her Obscurus licked out, still creating little tears in her skin. She didn't seem to mind, though, as she continued to toss about. 

Finally free.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to keep the reader's gender ambiguous throughout this series, so please imagine them as whichever gender or non-gender you would like!

You started taking a tally of how many hours Zamira could go without becoming incorporeal. She startled easily and had basically no control over her Obscurus when it did interject itself to the forefront. It seemed, however, that Credence could subdue her with minimal effort, and each subsequent time she burst apart and was wrangled, the time it took for her to materialize back to her body shortened.

Her skin still split with every change and it drained any small pool of stamina she had accumulated, so you all kept potions handy to mend her fragile body. She had grown accustomed to taking them without question, knowing that they would only help.

In her presence, you spoke constantly--it was a habit that Credence and you adopted only after Newt began it. Simple actions were narrated for her benefit, both to minimize any risk of her being caught off guard and to supply her with constant opportunity to learn new words. By the end of a week, she had gathered and begun using around a hundred words. They were mostly just the names of items, but it was easy enough to decipher what she wanted by listening carefully and watching where she pointed her fingers.

She still referred to Newt exclusively as 'Mum' and, though it was a bit unorthodox, no one would argue that it wasn't fitting. Credence's name had too many syllables for her to work through, so she often shortened her word for him to 'Cree.' And, lastly, her word for you was 'Baba.' It stemmed from her native language, Newt had said, and was actually a term used for fathers. Whether Zamira was using it as the counterpart to 'Mum' or because she found it appropriate or just because it was easier to say than even a nickname, you were unsure.

Zamira had taken to you the slowest, simply because you had the least common ground or history. She knew Newt from before and trusted him quite a lot, and she had bonded with Credence over their similarities. Credence would never be bold enough to point it out, but Zamira, in some ways, seemed even more comfortable around him than she was with Newt. He was keenly aware of when she was near bursting at the seams and could sometimes bring her down before she even reached that breaking point. 

And, because of his ability to do so, she began tagging closely to Credence after an incident where she struck out in fear. 

It happened two days after her awakening at the cottage. Newt had been brewing tea, a glass jar had been placed just-so on the counter, and it had tumbled to the floor and shattered. The sound had startled Zamira into and eruption of smoke that clipped a notch out of Newt's ear. When you had gone to investigate, alerted by the sound, Zamira had collected herself into a churning ball under the kitchen table.

Though Newt had assured her he was okay, that no lasting damage had been done, the girl felt obviously terrible that she'd injured him. It had taken her a solid hour to phase back into her body and only then did she return because Credence had crawled under the table with her and talked her down.

Zamira was, in some ways, the opposite of Credence. Whereas he was touch-starved and reveled in even the smallest contacts, she seemed to be averse to the sensation. She could be subdued by being held tightly, but once she calmed herself, she was very aloof, preferring to keep her distance. Newt imagined that there was a competent of claustrophobia to it, that she'd been so traumatized by being put in a cage that even the smallest contact suffocated her. Be that the case, you all gave her appropriate space, only reaching out if she came to you first.

By week two, a comfortable routine had formed for your little makeshift family. Newt was ever-busy with his manuscript, leaving for some hours during the day to meet with his editors. Meanwhile, you stayed at the cottage with Credence and Zamira and more or less tended to the home and the creatures in Newt's case. 

Newt wasn't particularly wealthy, but you pooled together your resources (he had gotten your currency converted to galleons) and had a decent cushion. Newt did all the shopping, seeing as how he was the only one in the country legally and Credence needed to lay low after New York.

He seemed to take great pleasure in living with people who were new to the world of magic. He could bring home mundane oddities, self-stirring spoons or candies that moved, just novelty items that you and he took for granted, and they would completely mesmerize your non-magic savvy Obscurials. 

It got to a point that Newt was bringing in different things each day, and you almost had a thought to scold him for spoiling Zamira and Credence so much--never really had the heart to, though, when you saw the looks on their faces, and besides, you knew you'd be doing the same if you had free reign to go out yourself. You put your foot down, however, when Newt kept trying to sneak items colored in Hufflepuff yellow into their wardrobes.

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing," you grumbled to Newt. Newt grinned at you while Credence stared up in confusion around the plush striped scraf around his neck. You shook your head. "Just school wars, is all, Credence."

He wasn't about to complain about the scarf, though, and you had to admit the colors looked quite dashing on him.

\--------------

Once you were positive that you were settled, you contacted your mother to let her know you were safe. Newt was out and Credence was reading to Zamira in the common area. He'd found some of Newt's field notes on dragons tucked away and while he was interested in the material, the girl really enjoyed Newt's sketches of the beasts.

You excused yourself out of the cottage and pulled out the charmed pendant connected to your mother. "Excitant."

She was quick to answer and her tone was none-too-approving. 'I've been trying to contact you for days--days, do you hear me?'

"Good to hear from you, too," you groaned. You had closed off the charm from her side so that she couldn't send you any messages. It was extreme but you had convinced yourself it was for safety's sake, that you could reach out to her when things were more certain. "Sorry I haven't called sooner, but things have been hectic on my end."

'You could've been dead and I wouldn't have even known!' She hissed out your full name like a curse. 'Where are you?'

"Safe," you said simply. "It's probably best that you don't know the specifics, in case someone comes looking for me."

'Are you even in the country anymore? Your hand has said 'traveling' for weeks now.' She was referring to the whereabouts clock in the family home. It had hands for your mother, your brothers, and you, and the available location options were: Home, Traveling, Work, Jail, and Hospital. Pretty standard for a whereabouts clock, except that where it once had said Mortal Peril, there was a gaping hole. It hadn't properly alerted to impending danger when your father was murdered and your mother defaced the nameplate promptly. She still kept his named hand tucked away in a trinket box somewhere in the house.

"I'm overseas," you said, "but that's all I'll say, okay?"

'Fine,' she said sadly. Silence permeated between you for a moment before your mother began speaking again. 'Are you still with your friend?'

"Yeah. I thought... maybe it was a good idea to take him somewhere far away."

'Perhaps.' Her voice was troubled and you assumed it was because she didn't trust Credence. For all she knew, you were alone with him in some foreign country--you certainly weren't going to tell her about Newt, knowing the role he had played in Grindelwald's capture. When she spoke again, it was with some unexpected news. 'Miss Dot finally plucked up the courage to look into adoption.'

Dorothy Harmal was a kind woman often babysat you and your brothers when you were younger. She was a Squib but she worked as an aid at Ilvermorny with your mother. She had no children of her own, though you never knew the exact reason why. You guessed she was simply unable--and that her inability had led to her divorce. It was years ago, though, and you were glad to hear that she was moving on.

"That's great," you said approvingly. "Does she feel good about it?"

'She's already begun paperwork for a girl she met the other day, actually.'

"Oh, good! Tell her I said congratulations."

'Honey, it's the little girl you had me check on.'

You nearly let the pendant slip from your fingers. "What?"

'The girl in New York,' she emphasized.

"That's not... How is she allowed to file an adoption request for a Non-Maj kid? I know she's a Squib, but she still works at the school and--"

'Something upset the poor girl and she petrified everyone in her foster home. Everyone in the house had to be obliviated and she was transferred to our system. It was all in the papers.'

"Did you tell Miss Dot about her then?"

'I did, and since she knows a bit more about how No-Majes live, her application was apparently preferred over some others. That, and since she works at the school, she'll be able to watch the girl closely. It's for the best, given her history.'

"I've... Mom, I've got to go," you gasped. "We'll talk soon. I want to know more, but I've got to--"

'Go tell him, then,' she predicted.

\-----------

You all but burst into the room and Zamira stared up from Newt's sketches fearfully, her eyes flashing white for only a instant. Credence looked up at you in question, feeling sick at the wide-eyed expression you had. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly worried. 

"Modesty is--" His eyes shot to mooncalf size and you quickly said, "Modesty's a witch. Credence, she's--she's a witch."

His Obscurus pulsed in shock and Zamira looked up at him in awe. He didn't fly apart, though it took a lot of effort on his part to not do so. "How?"

"I don't know, but her magic manifested while she was with a foster family." You grinned, realizing the full implications. "Credence, she's--she's young enough that she'll be able to learn it. She's going to be adopted by a lady my mom works with--at the school, she works at the school. So, Modesty will be able to go there and learn to use her magic!"

"That's..." His mouth dropped open, bobbing a bit as he tried to form words. He could feel his Obscurus churning and pressing to be released. It was a tight, painful feeling, and he could imagine the black magic darting out like blades, as Zamira's did. "I don't feel well."

"Oh?" you gasped. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't think--"

"No, it's okay," he said. "I'm just shocked and... the Obscurus is fighting against me. I think..." He stood from the sofa and stalked off the Newt's room, where the case was held. "I think I should go let it out for a bit, actually."

Zamira was trailing close behind him, worried that he was walking off without her. He clicked open Newt's case, apparently intending to bounce around one of the empty habitats. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" you asked gently, feeling guilty that you had upset him.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Just to make sure I don't damage any of the spells on the case. I would go outside but I don't want to risk someone seeing me."

"Right," you agreed. Credence stepped down into the case and you held a hand out to Zamira. She hadn't returned to the case in the entire time she'd been awake and she looked down into it skeptically. You assured, "It's safe, Zamira."

You could feel her Obscurus prickling under her skin when she took your hand, but she followed without protest.

\--------------

Newt returned to an empty house and in a flash he was flooded with terror. There were no signs of a struggle, so he convinced himself that you all hadn't been taken away. His bedroom door was open and the case was laid out in the middle of the floor so he assumed, with great relief, that you were tending to the creatures together. 

Inside the case, his beasts seemed well but he still saw no sight of any of you. He wandered, coming to a halt when he spotted Dougal peeping into the arctic habitat. The Demiguise turned to him and chattered angrily and Newt realized that a ward had been placed over the curtain to keep the beasts from wandering inside.

Newt found that he was able to permeate through the ward easily, likely because it was specifically meant to keeps his animals out, not him. The habitat was still crisp and cold, completely left intact from disuse. 

"Newt," a whispered voice called. He looked toward the voice, your voice. You were sitting in the snow atop a blanket that had been enchanted to repel moisture. However, Newt completely overlooked you in favor of the much more pressing sight.

Flashing threads of black and red and silver spiraled up from the ground, dancing in the air before sweeping back into the snow. They kicked up powder, catapulting back up and gliding together. Then, the dark wisps siphoned downwards, materializing briefly. Credence, in his body, touched down in the snow, bouncing backwards with momentum. His face was flush red and breathless. Zamira's smaller Obscurus quickly joined him, shakily taking shape. She over corrected when she hit the snow, lost balance, and skidded headlong into a snow drift. She rolled, making something of a haphazard snow angel, and her laugh sounded like a song.

You were at Newt's side when he observed, "She isn't bleeding."

"No, that stopped some time ago," you said.

Zamira leaped up, exploding effortlessly into a plume of smoke around Credence. He met her again, his form shifting. Their magic fluttered like ribbons in the wind.

Newt's hand searched backward, touching your wrist. He noted the chill on your skin and turned back to you. He clasped his hands around yours, frowning at the cold bite of your fingers. "How long have you been in here?"

"I've lost track, honestly," you said. "It's fine. We came in here because--oh, I have to catch you up. So, Credence's sister has manifested magic." Newt's brows raised at that. "She's already being placed in a magical home. Anyway, I told Credence and he wanted to come in here, said his Obscurus was pushing. And then Zamira saw him moving around in that form and she wanted to try it. And then when she realized it wasn't cutting her, she started flashing in and out of it. And, well, here we are."

Newt removed his coat and draped it over your shoulders. He could temporarily stand the cold, but you had already been in it a long while. You wrapped up in the peacock blue material, carefully avoiding all the pockets on the inner lining of the coat--knowing Newt, there was no telling what was in there. Pickett, for one, had been hitching a ride and he crawled out of the safety of the breast pocket to tangle in your hair.

Newt stepped just a bit closer, crouching to make himself unnoticeable. You accio'd your blanket and offered Newt a seat. He wordlessly took it, watching the Obscuri continue to whirl in fluid choreography.

"They're magnificent," he said, his voice barely a sigh. 

You leaned sideways a bit, brushing shoulders with him. "They are."

Newt's eyes darted down to you, watching you carefully. He'd held down a physical shudder when you leaned against him. His cheeks felt scathingly hot against the frigid air, and he hoped the you wouldn't look up and notice the blush. His eyes wandered over to the inky tendrils as once again Credence flashed into himself. The younger man laughed and it was a melody like no other. Newt's attention bounced from him to you and back. 

He nearly swore as his heart raced in a way he was completely unprepared for.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence isn't the only one that gets a wand *winkwink*   
> Also Gender. Ambiguous. Reader. Who is having penetrative sex. This was a bitch to write and you're welcome.

Between his writing and other errands, Newt arranged a meeting with Mr. Olivander in Diagon Alley. You were to take Credence and meet after the wand shop had already closed. Newt had full confidence in old Olivander and assured that he would ask no questions. When the time arrived, Credence voiced his desire to take you along with him--nothing against Newt, of course--and Newt put up little resistance. 

"So long as you can play the innocent tourist," Newt hummed to you. He knew that someone would need to stay with Zamira--she was improving, but she wasn't nearly steady enough to take into public yet. He gave you a detailed description of Olivander's shop. "I trust you can apparate there?"

"It shouldn't be any trouble," you replied. "I've seen photos of it before."

"Good," Newt sighed. "Try to lay low. Unfortunately, many of Grindelwald's supporters live among us." Credence was uneasy at the mention of the man who had impersonated Mr. Graves and caused so much hurt--and, oh, when you had explained to him that Graves had likely never been the man he thought he was it hurt even more. "I doubt any of them would recognize Credence if they saw him, but in the event that they did--"

"We'll be careful," you said. "And if anything happens--" You clapped your right hand against your left palm. "--I'll tap for you."

"Right then," Newt said, smiling. He handed you a parcel. It was bulky but not terribly heavy and you held it by the thin ribbon that was twined around it several times--core materials, Newt had said. "Take care and we'll see you soon."

"See y'soon, Cree, see y'soon, Baba," Zamira parroted.

You bundled up in thick wool coats and tucked scarves around your necks, Credence wearing that blasted Hufflepuff scarf and you in a thickly woven brown one. He took your hand, drawing in a deep breath. 

He never would get used to apparating.

\------------------

Diagon Alley was not a far cry from the bustling streets of New York, and it made Credence jittery. He kept close to you as you rapped on the door to Olivander's shop. The graying wizard shuffled to the door and invited you in with a suspicious, squinty look.

"You're the acquaintances of the Scamander boy, yes?"

"Yes, sir," you answered, holding the package out to him. "He asked us to deliver this while we were here."

Olivander took the parcel and placed it behind the counter. "Bribery, it is, but I suppose I can slip one wand through the cracks in exchange for Thunderbird feathers. Not often one comes by those. Now--" He clasped his hands over his chest. "--where shall we begin?"

"My friend here has never had a wand," you said. "He's a late bloomer, I'm afraid." It wasn't a complete lie, but it was better than the whole truth.

"I see," Olivander said methodically. "Well, we'll start fresh then, won't we son?" He was sizing Credence up and the younger wizard stiffened under his critical eyes. "We'll start with... hmm... aspen, I think. A good dueling wand, a striking wood!" 

Before he could scurry off to sift through his stock, you said, "Actually, that's a light-colored wood, isn't it?"

"It is, in fact," Olivander replied.

"Could we try a dark colored wand?" you asked. "It's happens that I'm a Seer and... well, I've Seen him with a dark wand. I don't know much else, though."

"Dark... ah, maybe an ebony, then." Olivander perused his stock, sorting out wand boxes.

Credence held his grin to a minimum. "You Seen me with a wand?"

"I have," you assured. "A decent length. Oh, maybe that's it. Mr. Olivander, probably one longer than ten inches, if that helps."

"It's a starting point, at least," Olivander grumbled, a little disappointed that he wasn't getting to start with his instincts. Ebony was a strong wood that respected wizards that carved their own paths. Credence seemed very much to be a follower. However, Olivander would try it your way first. He unboxed the wand and presented it to Credence. "Ebony, eleven and one half inches. The core is Hippogriff tail hair. Give it a go, then."

Credence had seen Newt's field notes on Hippogriffs--the Scamander family bred them, apparently--but he was unsure what symbolence the type of wood and core really had. He gingerly took the wand, turning it over in his hand. He felt a chill ripple through him and, though he knew instantly that it wasn't a match, he held it in position.

"Oh, I have a..." He trailed off and regarded you. "What do you call it?"

"A backfire," you said. "Right, his backfire has a very wide radius. I'll help repair any damages done to your shop, sir."

"Go ahead, son," Olivander tutted. "These shelves have been blown apart many, many times."

Credence nodded and gave the wand a flick. It crackled and the shelves containing all the wands crumbled inward, spilling their contents onto the floor. Credence flinched and Olivander surveyed the damage, whistling when the saw shelves tumbling like dominoes all the way to the back of the shop.

"That... is indeed an impressive range, my boy."

\------------

Credence was quite sure that he'd gone fruitlessly through every wand in the shop. With each wand passed to him--cherry and aspen and mahogany and yew, filled with every kind of hair and feather imaginable--he backfired a wave of destruction through the shop that you quickly repaired. 

After hours, Olivander looked ready to pull his hair out. He muttered, "We've tried literally every combination... Every one I have at my disposal. Could that mean... no, there has to be one here that will work."

"The acacia didn't react as violently," you observed. That wood had resulted in a small sputtering of sparks immediately before the shelves leaned and toppled.

"I suppose it could also be stained darker if you insisted on that... but we tried all the acacia wands I have in stock and none of the cores reacted favorably."

Credence felt terrible. He didn't know how long it normally took young wizards to find their wands, but it couldn't be anything like this. He wondered if your vision had steered you wrong, if maybe he was too old now for a wand to choose him--or if there just weren't any wands that thought him worthy.

"He would have received a wand in the States if things had gone as they should have," Olivander reasoned. "So, perhaps he was destined for a wand with a specific core, one that I can't obtain."

"Like wampus fur or serpent horn?" you asked. "My personal wand has wampus fur and it's backfired on him, so I don't think that would be it."

"It might work with the correct wood," Olivander argued. "I could potentially make a custom order using the Thunderbird feathers Mr. Scamander provided. Otherwise, I would suggest looking into the other America-specific cores. Wampus fur or serpent horn, as you said, or maybe rougarou hair or river monster spine."

Something about that list clicked into place in your mind and you gasped in recognition. "Mr. Olivander, I have an idea. Oh, this could be the answer! We--we'll be leaving. Sorry to trouble you tonight. If I'm wrong, we may return to try a Thunderbird wand."

\--------------

Credence was glad to leave the shop but incredibly embarrassed that he was empty-handed despite his best efforts. He hesitated to reach for you, feeling shame rolling in his gut. You locked your arm around his, however, and lead him toward a quiet alley where you could apparate back to the cottage.

"Don't feel bad, sweetheart," you soothed.

"Maybe I'm not meant to have a wand," he groaned.

"Nonsense," you chided. "I told you I Saw you with one. When Mr. Olivander was going through the cores, I had a thought. White River Monster spines are a rare ingredient that only one wandmaker in America uses. And, I happen to know of an unmanned acacia wand with such a core. It’s unorthodox, but I have a good feeling about it."

"Is it back in the States?" Credence asked. You nodded. "Then how will you get it?"

"I can set up a Portkey, maybe," you mused. "Just a temporary one--oh, a Portkey is a method of traveling long distances. I'll set one up and close it as soon as I retrieve the wand."

"You're going to go steal a wand?"

"Not steal," you puffed. "Just relocate. It's just been sitting there collecting dust for years, and it's a terrible shame." Credence was giving you a questioning look and you gulped the lump that you hadn't realized had formed in your throat. "It is--it was--my dad's. Before he died, that is."

Credence stopped in his tracks. "I can't take your father's wand. I'm not..."

"I can think of no better wizard to have it," you said. "Besides, it's a fantastic wand. It’s customary to bury a wand with its wizard, but Dad always said he’d want to pass it on if he… well, anyway, Mom kept the wand. Everyone in the family has tried to work with it but it's just so stubborn. It won't work for any of us. Acacia wands are a bit like that, though. They pick their wizard and want nothing to do with anyone else. Wands typically aren't that particular. A skilled wizard can usually wield any wand with some effect. Not Dad's wand, though."

"If you can't control it, there's no way..." Credence wasn't committed to the idea of pulling away from you, but he was prepared for you to separate from him, to leave him as he felt he deserved. 

"I really believe that it was the wand I Saw," you insisted, stepping back to look him in the eyes but keeping your hand resting gently on his side. "It seemed so familiar, and I wasn't sure why, but... It makes sense now."

Credence twisted his gaze away from you, focusing on the other people walking around you. Though it was late at night, there were still shops and pubs open, still bustling with drunk, happy wizards and witches. There was a couple standing together outside a shop, squeezed in closely, intimately, not unlike you and him. They were both men and when they pressed in close for a kiss, Credence's face lit up with a blush.

"What's it--oh," you gasped. "Right. It must be a shock to you to see it displayed in public." You smoothed the lapel of his coat, bringing his full attention back front and center. "No-Majes have some very archaic ideas about love, I'm afraid, but wizardkind is very open to homosexuality."

Credence's mind rushed with scriptures recited in his Ma's voice and he recoiled—not at all because of the act in front of him that he’d been taught was sinful, but because he hadn't thought of her in weeks now, he realized. He chastised himself for being so stupid as to think her could forget her, forget the decades of abuse with a few weeks of love and--

Love. His heart stuttered at the thought.

Love--like he could see all around him in the breathlessly happy witches and wizards that walked hand-in-hand and kissed in full view. When he looked at them, there was no doubt in his mind which one's were acquaintances and which ones were together--it was obvious. 

You and he were at least as intimate and he had never allowed himself to entertain the thought that you might be...

No, his mind fought him, convinced him that the gentle kisses and embraces from you were reserved for private only. They were for his benefit, his rehabilitation—because god knew he needed the care to recover from the life he'd lived. He couldn't allow himself to imagine that it was something for you, too, that you thought of it as something deeper.

He snapped back to reality when he realized that you were talking, that he had missed half of what you'd said. "...you hear me, sweetheart? We should be going. I don't want to stay out in the open too long. You heard what Newt said."

"Right," he clipped, following you into the alley. He held your hand tightly as you produced your wand and disapparated.

\------------

Newt seemed all in for whatever ‘Portkey’ idea you had planned, though it was apparently an illegal venture. Unsanctioned Portkeys were especially frowned upon with Grindelwald’s followers running amok, but neither the Ministry of Magic nor the MACUSA had developed a way to track them. You contacted your mother, letting her know that you’d be popping in very quickly to pick up ‘something’—Credence noticed guiltily that you did not mention what that something was. 

“Portus,” you chanted over a well-worn quill. It glowed, hovering and crackling as your spell saturat3ed it. You hummed a string of numbers and cardinal directions—coordinates, you were setting the exact coordinates of your mother’s home. You whipped your wand, finalizing the enchantment and were careful not to touch the quill before you were ready.

“Right, you have our location down?” Newt asked. He had given you the latitude and longitude and you repeated it back several times to ensure it was memorized for when you created the return Portkey.

You quirked your head in a nod. “I’ve got it.” You smiled a little sadly at Credence. “I would offer to bring you along, but travel by Portkey is not very pleasant.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back in a jiff, okay?”

Credence’s cheek heated at the contact, but he said nothing. You waved goodbye to Zamira and took the quill in your hand. In an instant, you popped up and out of the cottage and soared up into the sky, far above the clouds. You braced yourself for the intense pull, your grip white on the quill as you were tugged roughly by your navel towards your destination.

You tumbled into your mother’s den a few minutes later and had to catch your breath from being in transit for so long. She was there waiting, a look of worry weighing down her features. 

“You okay, dear?” she asked.

“Bit dizzy,” you sputtered out, trying to stand straight. “Oh, Merlin, I hate Portkeys.”

“For you to set one up illegally,” she snapped, her tone terse, “I certainly hope that whatever you’re after is of dire importance.”

“I could do without the lecture,” you grumbled, finding your balance and walking toward your father’s old study. It had mostly been kept the way he left it, the shelves a cluttered mess of books and trinkets. His desk was cleaned off, as your mother sometimes worked on potions there. Locked in the top drawer of the desk was the wand you sought. 

When you maneuvered your hand around a book on the shelf, seeking the hidden key to the drawer, your mother gasped out in offense. “You’re after his wand?”

“Yes,” you said simply, procuring the key and clicking the lock open. The dark stained wood of your father’s wand peered up at you from the protection of the drawer. You lifted it out like a fragile twig, marveling at the precision of its design. You had always loved the wand, though it didn’t have nearly the same care for you. 

“You aren’t… you’re not planning on giving it to that Obscurial boy, are you?” Your mother sounded scalded.

“I’ve Seen him with it, using wordless magic with it, even,” you said. Her mouth gave an open-close-open movement like a fish out of water. She wanted to argue with you, but she, thankfully, was sensitive to the gravity of your visions. That didn’t make her any happier about the revelation, however.

“Take it and leave,” she snapped. “I can’t… just go before I change my mind.”

“Mom—”

“He always wanted you to inherit it,” she hissed. “For someone… someone to inherit it. He’d be heartbroken if it died in a drawer.”

“It will be in good hands,” you swore. Your mother didn’t look convinced. “I’ll check in when I can, but you know how things are. We can’t afford to be too visible, not yet.”

“I know,” she clipped. “Your dad was the same, always with the auror business, always with the secrecy. I’m sure his wand will be happy to be back to the same old tricks.” She allowed a small, defeated smile. “When things are quieter, do try to come visit. Miss Dot is… well, the girl is having a hard time adjusting.”

“Modesty?” you gasped. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“She’s lonely, I think,” she explained. “Everyone’s told her that her brother’s dead, but she doesn’t believe it. Whatever spell they released over the city to make everyone forget… well, it reached her. She doesn’t remember that night very well. She knows that her mother and sister are dead, but the rest was… obliviated I suppose.”

Newt’s rain touched her, then. He had explained the Swooping Evil venom plan to you and though it seemed outlandish, the absurd was what Newt excelled in. Looking back, you wished you had known about the memory wipe. You had avoided going back to find Modesty because she had been afraid of Credence’s Obscurus. If you had known that her memory of it had been wiped, you could have retrieved her, could her taken her in along with Credence, could have introduced her to his power in a way that wasn’t so frightening.

“Just so you know, Dottie doesn’t know anything about what happened with the Obscurial,” your mother said. “I only told her that the girl had come from an anti-magic house that you’d seen causing a stir in New York.”

“His name is Credence,” you said defensively. 

“His—what?”

“His name is Credence,” you repeated. “You keep calling him ‘the Obscurial’ like he’s… please. His name is Credence.” Your mother was quiet. You knew she didn’t like even the idea of him. He’d destroyed a lot of the city, killed people, so she thought him little more than a dangerous creature. It hurt, but you weren’t in a mood to fight her further. You had to get back to the cottage. “I’d appreciate it if you went to see Miss Dot and Modesty. And tell her… tell Modesty that he’s alive, somehow. Maybe she won’t worry so much if she knows. We’ll come as soon as we can.”

She nodded solemnly and turned to leave to office. “Put up a silencing spell so I won’t hear your return coordinates,” she said simply. “If anyone tries to find you, I don’t want to have anything to betray you with.”

“Right.” At the very least, your dad’s ‘auror secrecy’ had trained your mother to ask few questions and guard information. Questions got people in trouble. Information got people killed. She wished neither for you. “I love you, Mom. Thank you.”

“I love you, too, dear,” she called back from the hallway. Her voice was thick with tears, but you had to ignore it. You raised a silencing charm around the room, locking your voice inside. Then, placing the quill on the desk, you reset the Portus charm with Newt’s coordinates. Once the spell was complete, you holstered your wand and your father’s securely at your waist and grabbed the quill. 

\---------

Your return startled Zamira into a cloud of smoke, spiraling through the kitchen frantically. You apologized and backed slowly to a wall until she settled, pulling herself corporeal and sitting at the dining table. Since learning how to shift at will, her Obscurus was no longer cutting her skin and she could draw it back with greater ease. Even in that form, she was harnessing better control, though you still tried to give her space to reform.

Credence was chopping vegetables for dinner and Newt sat opposite Zamira, scribbling down some notes—his publishing agreement hadn’t even been finalized and he was already working on material for new editions. Credence looked at you hopefully and you grinned back.

“I have it, if you’d like to give it a try,” you said happily. You pulled the wand into view and Credence just stared at it for a moment. Since it was apparent that he wasn’t going to make a move for it, you stepped forward, holding it out to him, handle end out. “Here.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” he asked.

“If it doesn’t,” Newt said, “then we’ll just have to clean to kitchen, I suppose.” He looked over to Zamira and tapped the table to get her attention. “Oh, Zamira, if things start falling or exploding, don’t be afraid. It’s safe, okay?”

“Exploding is safe?” she repeated. “Okay.” 

Credence swallowed the uneasiness in his throat and gripped the wand handle. With the other wands he had tried, he had felt a chill or a static shock at first touch. With this wand, however, he felt nothing, and that somehow worried him more. He held it up, turning it over. If he looked close enough, he could see little nicks in the wood and well-worn grooves in the handle. The handle itself was beautiful. The wood of the wand extended up, widening a bit to form the handle seamlessly. A crisp white inlay decorated the handle with intricate swirls that could only be appreciated when inspected closely, and the wand ended with a fin design that was adorned with actual scales. The fin rested against the curve of his palm when held properly and it seated comfortably along his wrist if he rotated his hand.

The longer he held it, the warmer it felt against his palm, and not just because of heat transferring from his skin. The heat crept up and he swore it pulsed hotter in anger across his scars. He could feel his Obscurus bubbling at his fingertips, wanting to acquaint itself with the wand in a way it hadn’t with the rejects at Olivander’s shop.

This wand was special, and even his Obscurus knew—it was, after all, the embodiment of Credence’s magic. And, that magic immediately recognized the conduit that would most appropriately channel it.

Everyone in the room held their breath as Credence readied the wand and gave it a flick. It felt like he was bursting into his Obscurus and being pulled together at the same time. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just conflicting. His magic fought against being harnessed in such an unfamiliar way but Credence willed it out, watching the wand carefully.

Around him, dishes clattered and things just seemed to… vibrate. He thought, for a moment that it was the proper reaction, that it would remain subtle… that is, until things began changing.

Literally, items were transforming before him. The carrots he had been chopping morphed into potatoes and the potatoes to onions. The knife laid beside the cutting board flattened out into a plate. He stared around him and nearly everything in the room was shifting into something it wasn’t before. Zamira giggled as the chair she was sitting on fluffed into a cushioned ottoman and Newt looked incredibly amused when the quill in his hand turned into a stalk of celery.

Credence watched the mayhem, then looked wide-eyed at the wand. “What’s it doing?”

“It’s transfiguring the entirety of the kitchen,” Newt laughed. 

“Is it supposed to?” Credence said, his voice nearly cracking.

“Well, it certainly isn’t a backfire!” you cheered. “Give it… ah, give it a flick while saying ‘Refectio’ and that might turn everything back.”

“Refectio?” 

“Yes, and give your wand a whirl around the room,” you said. “You have to show it what your target is. So, say it at the start of the movement.”

He gripped the handle, and took a wide swing to cover the room. “Refectio?”

The chopped vegetables pieced back together and the words on Newt’s notebook disappeared. Newt gasped, “Hey, now, don’t erase my writing!” He countered it with a spell of his own and the ink soaked onto the page again.

“I don’t—I didn’t mean—“

“You have to say it like you mean it,” you soothed. “The spell is one of repair or recovery. Try to think about what you want fixed specifically or it will just begin undoing things that have been done recently.”

Credence nodded shakily and tried to picture the kitchen as it was before. He took another wave and said, “Refectio!”

The items began morphing back to their original forms, levitating with the effort. Once everything was in its proper shape, the items dropped haphazardly. Some of the vegetables missed the counter entirely and a few eggs that had been set out teetered deliberately into the floor with a splatter. Credence stared at the mess of yolk in the floor and you gave a disapproving sigh.

“And there it is, the whole problem with that blasted wand,” you groaned.

Newt seemed in on a joke as he stifled a laugh. Credence asked, “What? What was wrong? I thought I did well, considering…”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” you corrected. “You did spectacularly! You’ll be the one to wield this wand, without a doubt. The wand is just being rebellious.”

“It knocked the things into the floor purposely,” Newt added. “Cheeky one, isn’t it?”

“It… wands can do that?” Credence asked. “Act out on their own?”

“Oh, yes,” you said. “They have personalities. That’s the reason why a wand must pick its user. And, well, it’s decided that you have potential, but it’s going to give you a hard time, I’m afraid.”

Credence stared down at the rod, regarding it with deep affection. It had chosen him. It thought he was worthy. He could withstand a little bit of bullying from it, if that’s all it took for the wand to accept him.

You stepped in to embrace him, whispering cheerful congratulations and Credence was struck with a profound streak of confidence. When you pulled away, he caught your arm and dipped down to kiss you fully on the lips. He could hear a startled squeal from Zamira and a short chuckle from Newt—the two of you really hadn’t displayed so openly, even after living with Newt for weeks. When Credence leaned away, you were starry-eyed.

\---------

"What are we?" 

Credence's voice seemed distant in the cool quiet of your room. After the excitement with the wand-pairing, dinner had been eaten, Zamira had bathed and been tucked into bed, and Newt had retired to his room for the night. The two of you retreated into the case, to the small room off Newt’s workshop. He had offered to build on an addition to the cottage, but since he had already done so for Zamira, you insisted on sleeping in the case. 

Now, Credence laid in bed, facing the wall, and you were snuggled up against his back. You had almost drifted to sleep when the question hit your ears.

"What do you mean?" you asked sleepily.

He rolled to meet you, his face intimately close. "I mean... you and I--what would you call us?"

"What would you want us to be called?" you returned. You could practically feel heat radiating from his cheeks.

"It's just that... we kiss and sleep together and you touch me all the time."

"Does it bother you?" you asked gently.

"No," he said a little too urgently, afraid that you might next suggest distancing from one another. To emphasize, he curled a hand around your waist. 

"Credence, what do you want us to be?" you asked again, even though it was obvious. Silence followed as he was unable to find the appropriate words. "Because I know what I'd like us to be, but I’d like to hear it from you."

His Obscurus pulsed and licked at the small of your back and you could feel a familiar stiffness from him against your thigh. You wanted so badly to give him a push, but it felt inappropriate to do so, to even hint at the depth of your love for him, for fear that he would crumble to it without question. He had to say it first, had to invite the idea.

The Obscurus shivered and ran cold for a second to accent his uneasiness, but he took the plunge, speaking in rapid-fire. "Like those wizards we saw today, out in the open and—I want us to be like that. And, I want to do—things—with you. What would that make us?"

Your breath hitched at the implication. Of all the things he could have said... you hadn't even considered that he might be so blatant and it took you a moment to recover. You felt his Obscurus receding, though, recoiling from you along with his hand, and you realized that you had been quiet for too long, that he was quickly losing his nerve.

"Lovers," you stammered. "That would make us lovers."

Lovers. 

Love?

He loved you. 

It felt like the dark strands of his magic were tying knots around his heart, his lungs, choking him. Sweet lord, he loved you so much it hurt.

"Do you love me?" he asked so softly that you almost thought you had just imagined him saying it.

"I do," you said. "Very much."

He had to process the confession, had to run it through several times to convince himself that he wasn't making it up. You loved him. You loved him and he loved you and that meant... He had to ask. You wouldn't push such a heavy question on him, it was up to him to ask.

"Will... will you be my lover?"

The tenderness in his voice mixed with a tentative fear that set your heart to quivering. His hand hovered over your waist--he didn't dare touch, not until you gave your answer. His Obscurus strained to reach you, but he stamped it down with every fragile drop of willpower he had.

"Credence," you sighed, running your hands up his chest. He whimpered at the contact and his erection twitched against your thigh. You wriggled to his ear, pressing a kiss at his temple and whispering, "Of course I will."

Like a floodgate broken, he pressed as close as possible. His lips found yours, anchoring him in the familiar act. You kissed back with purpose, searching and probing with fervor equal to his own. You rolled your hips, only partially by accident, and ground long and hard against him. He moaned into your mouth, pulled back with a hiss, and nearly fled from you completely.

"Credence--"

"I'm sorry, it felt--"

"It's fine," you said with gusto. "I meant to do that. Please, don't run away from me." You drew circles on his chest. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"I want..." 

He wanted what he’d always been told was a sin. Fornication, sins of the flesh, a touch that he’d only dared to test on himself once—he’d been caught in the act and lashed viciously enough that he never dared explore it again.

But, he was sure that among wizardkind, a simple touch was not considered sinful. There was a pull deep in his gut and he longed for you the brush against him again. 

“I’m okay with anything,” you assured. “Kissing and touching and… well, there are other things that would call for considerably less clothing, but that can be arranged, yeah?”

There was a flirtatious tone to your words and Credence choked on a sharp intake of breath. Suddenly, he was considering the idea of your skin bared in front of him. You’d seen him fully naked but that was out of necessity, when you rescued him. He hadn’t allowed himself to imagine that you might—want—to see him or that he’d ever be permitted to see you.

It set his mind wandering. Did you have any scars or birthmarks? Were you filled in healthily over your ribs and hips where he was, admittedly, still scrawny? Would he look terribly deformed in comparison? Did proper wizards and witches have any marks on their bodies that set them apart from non-magical people—ritualistic symbols or carvings in their flesh? It was after all, something he’d been taught--or was that, too a lie?

“I want to… see,” he said uneasily. “Just to look—at you.”

You sat up, smiling. “Do I get the same luxury?”

“You’ve seen me, though,” he argued weakly, sitting up with you. His erection stood obnoxiously against the material of his pajamas, and he shifted uncomfortably and pulled the blankets into his lap.

“Yes, but I haven’t had the chance to really look at you,” you teased. “There’s a difference between flipping through the pages of a book and memorizing the words, yeah?”

It felt as though all the blood in his body was rushing between his legs. You wanted to see him—no, memorize him. 

“Can I look at you, too?” you asked. “If you don’t want me to, that’s fine.”

“No, you… can. If you want to.”

“I want to,” you urged. Your fingers played at the hem of your shirt. "Do you want me to take it off of do you...?"

"Huh, oh--ah, you," he stammered. His hands fumbled at his own shirt. "And, I'll... remove mine."

Your smile didn't seem to ease his anxiety. "You're sure you want this? If you're nervous--"

He pulled his shirt over his head in one go. "I'm nervous, but I think... no, I know I want this. Please."

Your reply was a swift motion, shucking your shirt off to match him. You tossed the article aside and smoothed your hair, giving him a shy, tight-lipped smile. His eyes stayed glued to yours, as though he was afraid to look further. His hair, softly curling at the ends, was mussed, as well, and you reached up to run your fingers through it.

"Have I told you I like your hair?" you asked gently.

"No," he clipped, his eyes darting only briefly down to get a quick look at your bare chest. 

"Do you think you'll grow it out?"

He swallowed hard. "I hadn't thought about it."

"Credence?"

"Yes?" His voice was almost silent and he stared off to the side.

"You're free to look," you purred. "Or touch. Unless you'd like me to first." His Obscurus was humming under his skin and it licking out at you when you brushed your fingers across his jaw.

He shuddered. "It's okay if it touches you, right? I don't think I can hold it back."

"I don't mind," you said. "It usually comes out when we're close anyway."

"Oh, it does?" 

"Yeah," you assured. It wisped over your arm, cool with his anxiety. It raised goosebumps on your skin.

"What does it feel like?" Credence asked. He willed the darkness out and it swept over your skin like smoke. "I can never really feel it."

"It's a little cold," you admitted. "But, that's because you're nervous, though. If you're comfortable, like when we're falling asleep, it's warm."

"I'm sorry it's cold," he murmured, trying to reel it back.

"No, it's kind of nice either way," you said quickly. Your hand trailed down his neck and collarbone and smoothed over the soft paleness of his chest, brushing over the light dusting of dark hair there. He took a shaky breath but didn't protest, so you explored further down, tapping your fingers against his ribs, counting them. He had filled out a bit since you came to live with Newt, but he still had a long way to go. 

You noticed no scars on his chest--they seemed restricted to his hand and forearms. You knew he once had them on his back, but you had long since healed those. However, one scar in particular had wrapped around his side. When you had tried to heal it, it had aroused him--the scar was over his hip, after all--and you had promptly ceased your healing magic. That scar still remained, a deep cut that glared up at you. The end of it disappeared at the edge of his pants.

You smiled and brushed your thumb over the scar. "I didn't get all of this one."

"You still could," he said. "That scar--that cut--it was one of the worst. I don't really like looking at it."

"I'll heal anything you'd like," you promised.

He considered your words. The scars on his hands were a reminder that he had escaped, something that was a part of him, and he was still unsure about them. Other scars, however, were just eyesores that led to bad memories. He was instantly eager at the thought of having the one on his hip removed, as well as a cross-hatching of marks on the tops of his thighs--he'd received those when he'd been caught touching himself and he was particularly aware of them now.

"Would you later?" he asked. 

"Of course."

He reached out a tentative hand and brushed his knuckles against your neck. He followed the path you had taken, tracing his fingers down, over your collar, your chest, ribs, down to your hip where his hand rested. He studied your skin, taking note of small freckles, the dip of your belly button, the stark lack of scars in comparison to his skin. 

He cautiously leaned into you and placed and quivering kiss on your neck. You wrapped your arms around his back to keep him from pulling away. He groaned at the skin-to-skin contact, melting against you as his Obscurus pulsed and tickled you. You dipped your head slightly, giving him a matching kiss on his neck and nibbling lightly. 

He moaned and embraced you tightly, his hold bracketed by the dark weight of his Obscurus. Your hand swept down his spine and teased the waistband of his pants. Your voice felt heavy as you asked, "Want to go further?"

"Yes," he sighed. He leaned back, hooking his thumbs under his waistband. He saw you watching him and felt awkward. "You too? Can we do it at the same time?"

You nodded and grabbed at your own pants. Next was an admittedly awkward shedding of clothing before you were both down to nothing. You chewed your lip as you took in the sight of him. He was sharp and thin, his hips somewhat prominent and framing the stiff girth of his erection. You drew your eyes up, carefully taking in all the details--thick white scars across the tops of his thighs, black curls at the junction of his legs that grew softer as they trailed up to his navel, thickening again over his sternum. 

He was watching you intently, his eyes hooded and hungry. He took his turn looking you over, noting the silhouette of your hip, curls at your groin that were darker and more textured than the rest of your hair. His gaze roved upward, back to your stomach and chest. A plethora of thoughts ran amok in his mind, touches that he'd like to place on you. It would be so easy for his Obscurus to slink out, tease your nipples, swirl and press at the most intimate parts of you while he sat back and watched. He wished he could blame his Obscurus for the thoughts.

All the same, you looked like you were ready to devour him and he wondered if you were having similar thoughts. 

"Have you done this before?" he wondered, feeling a little inadequate that he didn't know what to do next.

"I have," you said simply. You didn't elaborate, didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"I haven't," he whispered, "but, I think I'd... like to."

"Want me to take the lead, then?" you asked.

"Please." 

You crawled close, steadied your hands on his chest and playfully pushed him onto his back. He shuddered into smoke at the unexpected shove and surrounded you, the embrace of his Obscurus tight and warm. He reformed, hugging you snugly and laughing. His erection still prominent, it pressed against your back.

"Maybe a warning next time," he said, his voice the closest to teasing that you'd ever heard from him.

"Oh, hush," you quipped. "On your back if you want me to lead this."

He released you and laid back into the pillows. He was slowly feeling better now that you were taking things into your own hands. You straddled his thighs and his member twitched in anticipation.

Not wanting to push too far, you asked, "Do you want me to just use my hands or do you want it to go further?"

He said something so quietly that you didn't hear the first part of it but it ended along the lines of, "...want you to feel it, too."

"That's fine," you assured. "Did you want to go right to that?"

He wasn't sure what else you might do beforehand, but he knew he wanted the final act. He nodded for you to continue straight to the action. You cast a spell over your palm, coating it with a clear substance that you then swept over his erection. The fluid formed a thin membrane over him and he regarded it curiously. 

"What is that?"

"It's a barrier charm," you said. "Um... a condom, essentially."

"Oh." 

"Sorry, I could explain things as I go," you said sheepishly. You laid another spell over your hand, a slick of oil this time. "This one's lubricant."

You gripped him gently, slipping your hand up and down him a few time for good measure. He arched into your hand, gasping at the sensation. The barrier charm was non-permeable but it didn't dull any sensation. His Obscurus ran out like veins against the sheets, digging in as he bucked into your hand.

"That feels... so--good!" 

You watched him writhing, planning how best to proceed. You oiled your free hand, fingering at your entrance to prepare yourself. You knew he wouldn't last long, so you would have to make the most of your time. That thought alone was pretty exciting, though, just knowing that the slightest thing would push him over the edge.

You withdrew your fingers, dripping lubricant around them, and positioned yourself over him. You guided him, sinking gently, and he gasped as you engulfed his head. You groaned at the stretch, your eyes fluttering as you clenched around him, accommodating him. When he was seated fully in you, he was panting blissfully.

"That doesn't hurt, does it?" he murmured.

"There's a stretch, but it's nice," you comforted. You noticed the tendrils of his Obscurus lashing angrily in the sheets. "What's it doing?"

"I'm trying really--really--hard to not fly apart," he said through gritted teeth. 

"I haven't even started, sweetheart," you teased, bracing your hands on his chest. 

He traced a hand up your arm. "I'll manage."

"Need something to keep you focused?" You took his free hand and dragged it to the junction of you hips. "Touch me."

His body almost--almost--disseminated at the suggestion, flashing hot for an instant. He took a stuttered breath and played his fingers against you. You groaned at the sensation, rocking back so he could touch you fully. He focused on applying gentle pressure, pleasuring you as well as his inexperience would allow.

You lifted your hips and bit, sliding up his length, and then punched back down. A moan cracked in his throat and he arched up into your heat. He held himself together though, so you set a slow pace. Before long, he had given up on touching you--he simply couldn't concentrate on it--and he held your hips tightly as he pistoned up to meet you. 

You leaned forward, catching him in a kiss as his hips stuttered and his Obscurus carved a hot line around your waist. His thrusting became erratic, so you had to keep the pace even. You watched his face pinch in pleasure, his eyes flashing white and his skin threatening to turn mottled black. 

He gasped, "I'm--I can't--"

You dipped in the nibble his ear and whispered, "I love you."

His moan pitched as his Obscurus tangled around you, holding you almost uncomfortably tight. He thrust up a few more times, unable to form words. He tensed, surrounding you with a blanket of darkness and he cried out and spent himself. You rocked gently on him, slowing when his moans hitched into something more akin to whimpers. 

"Please," he sighed. "Please, it's... oh, it's so..."

You pulled off him slowly, petting his hair. His eyes were still blindingly white as he came down from his orgasm. His Obscurus cinched around you like a cocoon, drawing you close, and he rolled with you, writhing against you. 

"You feel so good," he sighed, nuzzling your neck. "Did it feel the same for you?"

You kissed him soundly and he groaned, rocking against your thigh. "Not the same since I didn't finish," you admitted, "but still very, very good."

"You didn't...?" He processed the meaning of your words and gasped, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"It's okay if the first time goes fast," you assured. "And I'm looking very forward to helping you build up stamina."

"I should have tried to go longer," he argued. He thought a moment and shivered as something occurred to him. "Can I try something?"

You met his eyes, noticing that they hadn't quite gone back to normal. "I trust you."

He rolled you to your back, his fingers probing at your entrance. You groaned as he pressed in slowly, getting a feel for you. He began thrusting, causing you to gasp in pleasure. When you had just gotten used to the feeling of him, a thick warmth carefully slid in beside his fingers and, simultaneously, you felt a hot weight wrapping around you, probing and throbbing at your skin. 

You stole a glance down your body, realizing he was willing his Obscurus out to pleasure you. You gave a euphoric whine and rutting down onto his hand. He thrust eagerly, feeling a swell of pride as your chest hitched with your gasping breaths. 

You could have honestly cried at the sensation he was pulling from you. His Obscurus searched every inch of you, probing and tickling and familiarizing. His fingers hooked, eliciting and sharp moan from you. Realizing that he'd hit a particularly nice spot inside, he began curling his fingers to hit the area again and the penetrating tendril of his Obscurus rutting insistently against the spot. If ever the phrase 'sinful' was appropriate, it was now, and it was glorious.

You cried out, arching as he brought you to completion. He milked it from you, and you rode his fingers until you could no longer take it, feeling too sensitive. He ceased when you stopped rocking against him, and withdrew his hand gently. He crawled up your body, pressing close.

"Was that...?"

"That was incredible," you gasped. "Next time you have an idea, by all means, do it, because that was..." You finished with a sigh, snuggling as close as possible. "I love you."

He held you impossibly close. "I love you, too."

You cast a courtesy spell to clean up your mess of sweat and lubricant and the membranous barrier on him. Once clean, you pulled the blankets over you and settled in. He ran his fingers and small threads of his Obscurus through your hair, his skin still vibrating with pleasure. 

"Lovers..." he whispered. 

"Hmm?"

"Lovers, I just like the sound of it," he said blissfully. "Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."


End file.
